


Investigative Journalism

by GoodbyeBlues



Series: Investigative Journalism [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: (Slightly) Closeted Character, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Sex, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bottom Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Is A Hot Mess, Cacti - Freeform, Deception, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Falling In Love, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Gay Bucky Barnes, M/M, Oblivious Steve Rogers, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Political Celebrity!Steve Rogers, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Reporter!Bucky Barnes, Russian translation available (see Chapter 1 notes!), Sharon is just the worst, Shots fired at Sharon Carter, Slow Burn, Steve Rogers Is Too Good, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony is Steve's brother, Tony makes terrible choices, Top Bucky Barnes, lying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-16 20:02:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 26,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10578495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodbyeBlues/pseuds/GoodbyeBlues
Summary: When gossip reporter Bucky Barnes is tasked with finding out more about a rumoured engagement for one of the famous Rogers brothers, he jumps at the chance to spend a week with Steve Rogers when the opportunity falls into his lap (or, actually, when Bucky falls into the opportunity. Literally.) Unfortunately, the more time he spends with Steve, the less he seems to want to write his exposé. Especially when his tell-all would be devastating to his new 'boyfriend.'  ...But those feelings are just pretend, right?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Расследовательская журналистика](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10709322) by [Brother_Louie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brother_Louie/pseuds/Brother_Louie)



> Here we go again! 
> 
> The idea for this is based on one of my favourite terrible movies (Snow Bride) because I am a sucker for a fake relationship any day of the week. (I'm the one writing this, and even I can't wait until they have 'no choice' but to share a bed. Because you know that's gonna happen. It's a fake boyfriends AU!) 
> 
> Enjoy! :)
> 
> [Brother_Louie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Brother_Louie/pseuds/Brother_Louie) has graciously translated this work into Russian! You can find the translation [here!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10709322/chapters/23723853)

 

 

“Barnes, in my office!”

 

Bucky’s head snapped up from the death stare he had been leveling at his computer (his ‘Celebrity Dogs! Who wore it better?’ article was not cooperating), the Grande Americano he had consumed earlier suddenly feeling a little more like weighted acid in his stomach.

 

Shit. Not again.

 

He slipped from his office chair and began making his way slowly towards Fury’s office, passing Natasha’s desk on-route on the off-chance she could provide a little insight into what this was about. Bucky wracked his brain for his latest fuck-ups, with a few too many coming to mind to help narrow down the possibilities for this summoning. This was not looking promising.

 

“Called to the Principal’s office 3 times in one month Barnes? This is a new record for you!” Clint Barton, (photographer/general human disaster) was leaning against Natasha’s desk with a wide smile and a fist raised for bumping. Bucky left him hanging and turned his gaze to Natasha. She didn’t offer a comment, just quirked one perfectly groomed red eyebrow. Luckily, Bucky was fluent in Natasha. Unluckily, this meant she didn’t know what the hell was going on either. Double shit.

 

Bucky kept moving knowing there was nothing to be gained by waiting around, now solely focused on getting this meeting over with. This was going to be awful. They were a paperless office, there wouldn’t even be a box around to hold his stuff when he had to clean out his desk like a down-on-his-luck sitcom character. He would have to carry his cactus out in his hand like a chump. He wanted to cry a little.

 

“Baaaaaaarnes,” Clint whined as Bucky continued down the corridor. He could hear the sound of Clint completing his own fist bump with his other hand, but it was all in the background now, a white noise in his static filled brain. This was it. He and his cactus were fired, and they were gonna have to live on the street. Bucky couldn’t look after himself on the street. He could barely look after a cactus.

 

His ‘plummeting-stomach gauge’ went from ‘rollercoaster’ to ‘just-jumped-out-of-an-airplane’ when he stepped into the office and saw that Brock Rumlow (gossip reporter/human garbage person) was already sitting in one of the two chairs across from Fury’s desk. Were there shelters for homeless cacti? Community greenhouses? Oh my god he had no idea, he was a horrible plant father, why did he ever take on this responsibility knowing he was an unstable adult on the best of days?! The plant was an innocent, it didn’t deserve an Oliver Twist life.

 

Bucky sat in the unoccupied chair, feeling numb. This was the end.

 

“Gentleman,” Fury began. “I’ve called you both in today because you two are the best reporters we've got.”

 

Whut.

 

“This is not public information yet, but Pulse Gossip is going digital in the next quarter. Strictly digital.” Fury continued.

 

Brock raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Bucky was still working out how to breathe.

 

“With this change in format, we’ve decided we’d like to change a few other things as well. We’re looking for a new head writer. And I want it to be one of you.”

 

Bucky leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

 

“Barnes?” Fury inquired.

 

“Sometimes when I have these stress dreams, if I fall asleep in the dream, I wake up in real life.” Bucky mumbled, almost to himself.

 

Brock snorted and looked at Fury. “So what do we have to do to earn this spot?”

 

Bucky opened his eyes. This was not a dream. Focus Barnes. If not for yourself, then for your prickly, potted dependent.

 

“What do you know about the Rogers family?” Fury questioned.

 

Oh good, gossip. Bucky knew how to do this part. He sat up straight.

 

“They’re practically the modern-day Kennedys. Joseph Rogers was about to run for president-”

 

“-Before he died of a heart attack two years ago,” Brock interjected. “Since then widow Sarah Rogers has been using her influence and substantial wealth for charity and other ‘passion projects.’” (Brock even did the actual air quotes there, what a knob.)

 

“While Tony has been spending his cut of the cash a little more freely.”

 

Brock let out a dark chuckle at Bucky’s polite understatement. “Asshole shows up in our pages twice a week for his antics. No secret there.”

 

“His brother though, Steve,” Bucky picked back up, “he’s a lot more low-key. Avoids the press and the tabloids, except for that blow up about a year ago when things went south with his fiancee Sharon.”

 

Fury nodded his approval at their collective knowledge. “Sources close to the family claim one of the brothers recently purchased an engagement ring. I want you to find out which one, and who the mystery lady is. This story is going to launch the new Pulse Gossip Online, and whoever gets it will be our new head writer. Are we clear?”

 

Bucky bobbed his head like the good little gossip-writing robot monkey he was.

 

“Crystal.”

 

* * *

 

Twenty minutes later he was in his Prius, making the two hour drive to the Rogers’ summer estate in the Catskills. It was time to do a little snooping.

 

“Even for you, this plan is severely lacking in any actual planning,” Natasha chided over his bluetooth.

 

“Come on Nat, where’s your sense of adventure? The thrill of the chase?” Bucky turned his wipers up another notch to better combat the pounding rain. It was really coming down.

 

“The chase gave up the ghost long ago James, I just do edits now. Besides, is this really what you want in your life? You have a masters of Journalism from NYU, yet you spend all your time writing about celebrities for a gossip rag that’s the equivalent of literary toilet paper.”

 

“Hey!” Bucky exclaimed. “We’re not going to be a paper product much longer! Soon I’ll be a digital asswipe. That’s way better!”

 

He could practically hear her eye roll making it’s way across the miles.

 

“I do what I do to pay the bills Nat,” Bucky defended, “plus I’m good at it. Besides, these celebrity-types are all the same. Why shouldn’t I take advantage of their already good fortune in life? They owe us at least that.”

 

“So being rich and famous means you automatically forfeit your right to privacy and secrets, is that it?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Natasha sighed. “You’re a real winner James.”

 

“Love you too Nat!” Bucky ended the call with a wet kissy noise and a smirk. His GPS said he was about 15 minutes away from the main property line, so it was time to put his metaphorical reporter cap on and make a plan.

 

His first roadblock in his big breaking story was a literal roadblock. A chain with a sign stating “Private Property. No Trespassing,” was strung across the road where the property became, well, private. No matter. Bucky was a pro. A little chain and metal threat wasn’t gonna stop him. Just his car. But he had legs. He could walk.

 

In the rain though? Ugh. His leather shoes were definitely not waterproof. He had left directly from the office and was still in his suit. But this was his story, dammit, and he was gonna get it. At least he had his umbrellaaaaaohhhnooooo- his hand fished around in his back seat, coming up empty. His umbrella was missing. Fuck.

 

Ah well, he could deal. And maybe he would run across Rihanna in the woods. You never know.

 

Bucky found a little dead end clearing and parked his car to keep it hidden from the main road, before he pulled off his tie and jacket (no sense in getting the upper-half of his favourite wool suit wet) and stepped out of the vehicle.

 

Ahhh, the rain wasn’t so bad, almost refresh-AH NO, ok, not refreshing, it was dribbling down his collar and soaking through his shirt and oh shit, he didn’t have anything to protect his phone, oh Jesus Christ he was an idiot. Ugh.

 

Professional.

 

Yes.

 

Bucky hunched his shoulders and headed down the road into the woods. A quick walk up the road, a tiny peek in a window or two, and he’d get all the info he needed. Easy as pie.

 

Provided the Rogers family was even home.

 

Bucky suddenly really hoped they were home.

 

Maybe this was not the best plan he had ever planned after all.

 

* * *

 

45 minutes later, he was definitely very lost. The main road had actually forked further ahead, and Bucky had followed the path to the right on a whim, because right felt right. Hahaha. (He was very aware that he was probably delirious with rain-sickness by now.)

 

He was also starving. Why he had decided a carrot muffin was an appropriate lunch, he’d never know.

 

While cursing the meal choices of the Bucky Barnes of early afternoon, real-time Bucky crested a hill and could have cried with relief. At the bottom lay a clearing with a small cabin, the flicker of firelight shining through the small building’s windows in the darkening evening. Bucky wasn’t gonna die in the woods! Oh good!

 

His gleeful discovery left him with very little in the way of caution as he made his way down the slope, the rain loosening the ground beneath his leather-soled feet as he picked up speed on the downward angle. Soon enough, the earth gave away, the world spun, and Bucky was tumbling head over feet, just like Alanis always sang it, landing at the bottom of the hill with an extremely professional thudding wack to the head.

 

* * *

 

Bucky was warm all over. He was so glad he decided not to get out of bed today. He needed a day off. A little R&R. He was a hard worker, and he definitely deserved this.

 

He snuggled a little further into the blankets before a warm hand came up to rest on his forehead, pushing his damp hair out of the way. Bucky nuzzled into the touch. Now _this_ was good.  

 

Except...

 

He lived alone.

 

His eyes popped open.

 

Crouching over him was Steve fucking Rogers.

 

Oh my God. Also, jackpot!

 

“Hi” Bucky said, like a moron.

 

“You almost died in a rain storm and all you’ve got is ‘hi?’” Steve voice was quiet and gentle, an odd mixture of concern and amusement fluttering across his features as he removed his hand from Bucky’s forehead.

 

Bucky blinked a few times. “Good evening?” He tried again.

 

Steve chuckled, and the noise rippled down Bucky’s spine.

 

Bucky had obviously seen photos and interviews of the man before, but having him up close like this? And that voice? Damn. Clint was an excellent photographer, but nothing on film could ever match the sight of Steve Rogers in the flesh. Bucky may have swooned, if he wasn't still recovering from his earlier hill-swooning.

 

“Are you ok?” Summer-blue eyes were definitely concerned now, and strong arms were gently wrapped around his torso to help move him into a sitting position. Bucky was laying in a heap of blankets in front of a roaring fireplace, the glow from the flames lighting the small cabin in a happy golden hue.

 

“I think so,” Bucky replied blearily. “What exactly happened?”

 

A small smile touched Steve’s lips. “I was hoping you could tell me. I was out on the back step bringing in more firewood when I heard a noise. You took a pretty good trip down that hill. What were you doing wandering around in a storm like this?”

 

“Ah, well.” Time to think fast Barnes. “I was... running.”

 

“In dress shoes?”

 

“Away. Running away, I mean. From a cabin. Down the road. My boyfriend’s cabin. Ex-boyfriend. We had a fight. We broke up.”

 

Steve’s eyes suddenly rivaled a kitten in a sunbeam for softness.

 

“So you left.” Steve nodded in understanding. “Want to talk about it?”

 

“No!” Bucky said instantly, then grimaced at himself. “I mean,” He bit his lip and turned his face away with a sigh, thankful he didn’t sleep through all of 10th grade drama. “It’s too painful.”

 

Steve Rogers (beautiful human/beautiful soul) took the bait. He made a small noise of sympathy and the hand still holding Bucky upright started moving in slow, comforting circles on his back. Guhhh.

 

Bucky shivered from the sensation.

 

“Fuck, you must be freezing still!” Steve suddenly hopped up and ran into another room, returning with a pair of sweatpants and a soft looking shirt.

 

“Washroom is the second door on the right, get changed and I’ll make you some tea to help you warm up. Are you hungry?”

 

“Always,” Bucky smiled. He didn’t even need to lie about that part.

 

Steve smiled back and helped set Bucky on his feet before turning into what Bucky assumed was the small kitchen. He made his way to the bathroom and started peeling himself out of his still-damp clothing before draping it over the tub to dry. He put the dry clothing on (Steve Rogers’ clothes, holy shit!) and did a silent little happy-dance/fist pump of success in front of the bathroom mirror. This was even better than he could have hoped for! He had successfully landed in the eagle’s nest. This promotion was so his.

 

* * *

 

Bucky hadn't been dancing in the bathroom for long, but when he stepped out in Steve's (slightly too-big) clothes into the kitchen, he found Steve in the throes of a large meal. Bacon was sizzling on the stove, eggs were frying (over easy, good choice Steve) and the toaster was doing it's toaster thing. Toasting.

 

Steve swung a mega-watt smile in Bucky direction at Bucky's reappearance. He could almost bet his own mother hadn't been as happy to see him when he was birthed screaming from between her loins.

 

Bucky shook his head. This guy.

 

“Breakfast for dinner ok with you?” Steve asked while flipping a strip of bacon. It smelled delicious. Was celebrity bacon better than normal person bacon? Probably. He would find out soon. For research purposes.

 

“More than ok.” Bucky nodded, and saddled up to Steve at the stovetop. It was time to turn on the ‘ol Bucky Barnes charm (it was what kept him in cacti.) “So, handsome woodsman, you saved my life and are making me food, do I at least get the courtesy of a name?”

 

Steve practically dropped the spatula, face immediately reddening. Fuck, he was a blusher. Good to know. For… research. Bucky wasn't sure yet if it could be attributed to his “handsome” comment, or Steve’s _outrageous_ lack of manners, but judging by Steve's face, he seemed ready to send himself to the guillotine for this oversight.

 

“Jesus, I'm so sorry. I'm Steve.” He set the spatula down and stuck his hand out.

 

Bucky shook the outstretched hand, the one that had been touching his face earlier. It was large and warm and slightly callused, and cradled Bucky's own hand perfectly.

 

“Steveee…” Bucky trailed off, waiting for Steve to admit to his last name.

 

Steve smiled tightly.

 

“Just ‘Steve.’”

 

So that's how they were gonna play this. Ok then.

 

“Ok ‘Just Steve.’ I'm Bucky. Bucky Barnesssss...San...Fran...Stinski.” Oh shit. Fake names were hard.

 

“Barnesanfranstinski?” Steve repeated slowly.

 

Bucky swallowed. “Yeah. It's um. Polish.”

 

Steve nodded like this was an acceptable answer. Thank God.

 

“We were, uh. Farmers. In the old country.” Bucky continued stupidly. Oh my God, this lie was not making things any better, but his mouth didn’t want to close.

 

“Great,” Steve replied mildly. Steve turned his attention back to his bacon with a straight face, but Bucky could have sworn he saw a corner of his mouth twitch. Steve had a secret sense of humour. Huh.

 

“So you live out here by yourself?” It was time to turn the focus back on Steve, and away from Bucky's terrible fictional heritage.

 

Steve didn't look up from the stove, but Bucky could see tightness creeping in around his eyes.

 

“This is the caretaker’s cabin. The property is part of a much larger estate.”

 

Fuck. What a good non-answer. Bucky could learn a thing or two about deflection from this guy.

 

“I see. Well, does this cabin have a phone? I need to call my… Sister. And tell her what happened.” Go Bucky, go!

 

The tight smile was back, but Steve's expression was honest when their eyes met. “There's no phone down here I'm afraid. We can walk up to the main house tonight but it's pouring rain still. It may be best to wait ‘till morning, as long as your head is feeling alright. Some of everything?” Steve asked, gesturing to the pile of food and an empty plate with a flick of the spatula.

 

Bucky nodded, trying to keep a smile off his face. A sleepover with Steve Rogers? What a _tragedy_.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trip up to the house 'to use the phone' results in an unexpected turn of events that has Bucky jumping for joy, but also feeling some other things. Some blood-pumping-muscle things. How unusual.

 

 

If Bucky had had his way, he and Steve would have spent the night wrapped in blankets in front of the fire, swapping their deepest-darkest secrets (and maybe practicing kissing) like a couple of pre-teens at a slumber party.

 

Unfortunately, Steve was a gentleman and had offered Bucky his bed, opting to sleep on the couch in the living area. Steve was also as straight as a board if his track record for only dating women was anything to go by, so the kissing was likely out too. Dang.

 

When Bucky awoke the next morning, he had an excellent idea of how Steve’s sheets smelled, (delicious) but no further information on any impending nuptials for the Rogers brothers. Steve had been tight lipped through dinner about his personal life, and the conversation had easily flowed to other topics, causing Bucky to (momentarily) forget his purpose for being here. There was still a trip to the main house in the works though, so not all hope was lost. Bucky just needed a peek around the house, a little looky-loo for a couple of seconds, and he was certain he could find all the info he would need for his article. A framed photo of a soon-to-be-wed couple. A ladies handbag with some handy dandy ID inside. Something tangible. He had gotten more working with far less in the past. He could do it again.

 

Knuckles rapped lightly on the doorframe, and Bucky was pulled from his thoughts as he popped his head up, still wrapped in the folds of the duvet. Steve was standing in the doorway of the bedroom, wearing a disturbingly hot pair of khakis and a classic white T-shirt, size smedium, judging from the way Steve’s upper body pulled at the fabric. If cotton had a mouth, it would probably be screaming (in pleasure.)

 

Bucky pulled his eyes away from those otherworldly chest proportions and focused on Steve’s face. There was a hint of blush on his cheeks, but if Steve had noticed Bucky checking him out, he was polite enough not to mention it. Steve seemed polite enough to not mention if you had parked your car on his foot though, so there was no real bottom on Steve’s polite guage it seemed.

 

Bucky kept the blankets curled around his head like a babushka and put on his best you-just-interrupted-my-English-teatime fancy-pants voice.

 

“Yesssss?”

 

Sunshine danced through Steve’s eyes and Bucky saw his perfect lips struggle to maintain a serious expression. Bucky had two missions now, it seemed. #1 was still to get the story and do a football end zone dance thing on Brock’s grave. #2 though, was to make Steve laugh. A real laugh. Out loud. Steve pulled himself together quickly, his current amusement expressing itself as a soft breath, and he bowed theatrically like the prince charming he basically was, arms gesturing to the door.

 

“Your chariot awaits, your highness. And by chariot, I mean a dirt road, because the rain stopped, so we can go use the phone at the house now.”

 

This fucking guy. If Bucky didn’t know any better, he thought he might be beginning to like him.

 

* * *

 

The house was not a house. The house was a house the way the Titanic was a boat. The house was a fucking mansion.

 

Bucky felt utterly underdressed and commonplace in Steve’s borrowed sweats and shirt as he stood in the marbled foyer. Just the fact that there was a foyer was mind-boggling for a native New Yorker. His own apartment in the city was a studio the size of a shoe closet. You could fit five of his apartments just in the entryway of this place.

 

Bucky was still trying to wrap his mind around the display of wealth when a petite well-dressed blonde lady glided into the room with outstretched arms.

 

“Steve! Finally taking a break from that godawful cabin. Thank goodness.” She moved forward and took Steve’s face in her hands, planting a lipstick kiss on his cheek. Even if Bucky hadn’t seen a photo of Sarah Rogers before, he could spot a mom from a mile away.

 

“Ma, stop.” Steve had pulled away and was rubbing at his cheek like a 3rd grader being dropped off at school in front of his friends. Fucking precious.

 

“You have a beard starting! Christ Steve, I do hope you take a razor to it today. I can only have one son with outrageous facial hair at a time. Tony’s stopping by, and he says he has ‘news’ for us. News. What does he mean by that?”

 

“I dunno Ma, he hasn’t mentioned anything lately. You’ll just have to wait and see.”

 

Bucky’s head was moving back and forth like he was watching a tennis match. This was _so_ perfect, he could hardly believe his luck.

 

Suddenly there was more motion at the door behind them, and lo and behold, Tony stepped through the threshold of the house, Sarah letting out an excited sound of glee at his appearance.

 

Bucky scooched off to the side of the room a little further, content to be a fly on the wall for this. His job had never been easier. He almost wished he had popcorn.

 

There was a flurry of hugs and familial exchanges before everyone seemed to take a breath, Tony stepping back to take in his brother and mother.

 

“Steve, mom. I’m glad you’re both here for this. I know I haven’t visited lately, but I wanted to do this in person. I know it’s sudden, and I need to explain a few things first, but-”

 

“For God’s sake Anthony, spit it out!” Sarah interrupted. Bucky liked her. She was fiery.

 

“I’m seeing someone, and it's serious. I think she could be ‘the one.’”

 

Sarah’s face immediately broke into a huge smile and she moved again, wrapping Tony up as much as her small stature would allow, a babble of ‘oh darling, I’m so happy, tell us everything!’ spilling from her lips. When he was finally released, Tony completed a very Steve-like movement, wiping errant lipstick away with an exasperatedly fond expression.

 

Steve pulled him in next for one of those bro hug things, a back pounding expression of love that Bucky had never quite been able to figure out, a low, “congrats, man,” being all Bucky could hear from his position by the wall.

 

“That’s what I needed to talk to you about.” Tony continued. “She’s, well-”

 

The front door swung open a final time and, just as the Great Plague stepped into the year 1665, in stepped Sharon fucking Carter.

 

Holyshitholyshitholyshit.

 

You could have knocked Bucky over with a feather.

 

Tony was dating Steve’s ex-fiancee.

 

And it was ‘serious.’

 

Bucky was gonna run a magazine.

 

Holy.

 

Shit.

 

His internal cries of victory were suddenly tempered though, when he finally looked up at Steve. His face was… fuck. Aw no.  

 

Sarah was busy putting on a brave smile, but the light in her eyes had gone hard quickly.

 

“Sharon. So good to see you again.” Sarah’s voice was stilted and insincere at best.

 

Sharon’s responding smile was more of a grimace. “A pleasure, Sarah,” she greeted. An icy chill settled over the room as she turned her attention to Steve.

 

“Steve.”

 

“Sharon.”

 

Steve’s face was hard and his voice was flat and ugly and _wrong,_ so very different from the warm-hearted “cabin Steve” he had met just last night, the one who had bowed in a doorway with a smile only an hour ago. Bucky’s stomach twisted.

 

This was.

 

Nobody deserved this. But especially not Steve.

 

“And who’s this?” Sharon turned and suddenly she was looking at Bucky and holyshitfucks, this woman was slightly terrifying.

 

“That,” Steve voice was surprisingly grounding in the silence off the room, “is Bucky. Bucky Barnesanfranstinski.” Steve paused for a loaded heartbeat. “My boyfriend.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh shit, the fake-boyfriends thing has commenced. Will Bucky agree to this? (JK, you know he will.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fake relationship is a go and it's time for Bucky to bring his A game if he has any hope of helping Steve this week.  
> Oh, and also because he needs dirt for his story. Because that's the whole reason he's here. Of course.

 

 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Buck, I’ll explain to them-.”

 

“No, Steve, what? You did the right thing!”

 

“I had no right to bring you into this!”

 

“They pretty much forced you into a corner here, pal. And I can't let you go through this alone! We can't let them get away with this!”

 

“...What?”

 

Steve had pulled Bucky into the study after the terrible foyer incident. They were currently engaged in a whisper-fight while Tony and Sharon unpacked their luggage upstairs.

 

“Not only is your brother dating your ex, but they're staying in your house, all week, unannounced, just to what? Flaunt it in front of you? No. Not allowed. They can't do this shit! Not to you!” Bucky's whisper-shout grew a little louder at the end and he had to work to control his volume.

 

Steve ran a hand through his hair, his expression unreadable.

 

“I think we need to discuss a few things first before we go ahead with this plan though.” Bucky continued. “#1 being… You're gay?”

 

The rosy blush from the night before was back, and Bucky was happy to see it, happy to see anything on Steve's face that wasn't that awful stony expression he had developed when Sharon had entered.

“Bi, actually.” The corner of Steve's mouth quirked, a tick of annoyance. “It’s not public knowledge. But my family knows.”

 

Bucky sighed in relief. He didn't think he could handle a coming-out in the same weekend as a fake relationship plot. Steve being in the closet to the general population though. That was...something. Something Bucky didn’t envy. His heart clenched for Steve, even more than before.

 

He took a breath. One thing at a time.

 

“Ok, as long as your family knows, we can work with this. Point #2 then, is that it seems ‘Just Steve’ is a little more than the property's caretaker. You’re Steve Rogers, aren’t you?” Bucky couldn’t let his own story crumble completely, even in the face of these new developments.

 

The blush resumed tenfold.

 

“When you didn't immediately recognize me, I didn't… It's hard to find people who like me for me, and not for what my last name brings.” Steve's smile was sheepish.

 

Bucky’s heart immediately did a little pitter-patter thing.

 

Heart. Stop it.

 

“Ok, Steve, first of all, anyone who doesn't like you for you is a goddamn idiot, because I've known you for less than a day and can already tell you're one of the best people on the planet. Secondly, fuck everyone.”

 

Bucky was gifted with a genuine smile this time, and it made a happy flower of warmth bloom in his belly. His body was going crazy. Probably from all the stress.

 

“If we're gonna do this, we've got to do it right.” Bucky gave himself a mental shake before continuing. Steve was an even worse liar than Bucky was, so Bucky knew he'd have to take the lead here. Bucky, in general, was an excellent liar, just not when it came to Steve for some reason. But lying _for_ Steve? That he could do.

 

“Where did you go to University?”

 

Steve looked puzzled for a minute before catching on. “I majored in Political Theory at Princeton.’

 

“Of course you did. Play any sports?”

 

Steve smiled. “I was on the swim team.”

 

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose. His body already had enough to deal with. Picturing Steve in tight little orange and black swim shorts was not going to help anyone right now.  

 

It would help Bucky later though, maybe. In the shower.

 

“Go Tigers.” He finally said, weakly. Guh. Pull yourself together Barnes.

 

“Favourite food?”

 

“Mom's spaghetti.”

 

“Favourite colour?”

 

“Blue.”

 

“Perfect. Lastly.”

 

Bucky moved forward quickly and pressed his lips to Steve's. Despite the hurried start, he slowed when Steve finally got with the program and opened his mouth slightly to begin kissing back. Steve's mouth was warm and gentle and slightly minty. Bucky hadn't even brushed his own teeth that morning. Woops.

 

Bucky finally pulled away and looked up. It took two thuds of Bucky's heart before Steve finally opened his eyes and met his gaze, a soft look on his face. Bucky knew it was two thuds, because he could feel his heart hammering away in his chest. Probably from adrenaline or something. It had been an eventful morning. And his body was being weird, as evidenced from earlier.

 

“Now we're ready. If your family had to witness our first kiss, they would've know in an instant that we were faking it. All good?” Bucky held his hand out in an invitation for Steve to take it, so they could re-join the group as a ‘couple.’

 

“Yeah.” Steve cleared his throat. “All good.”

 

* * *

 

Brunch was surprisingly easy for Bucky to get through.

 

He was still a little geared up after all the emotions from the morning, but he was wholeheartedly determined to defend Steve's honour now.

 

Oh, and to get more info for his article. That too. He had gotten the meat of the story, but the proposal wasn’t _really_ confirmed yet. And weren't the best pieces of writing really dependent on the details? So he couldn't leave now.

 

Besides.

 

Steve needed him.

 

Especially if Steve's brunch behaviour was going to continue all week.

 

Bucky was currently weaving a fucking epic romance as he poured more syrup over his waffles, laying it (the story, and the syrup) on thick.

 

“I was so surprised when Steve showed up at my apartment this weekend, telling me to drop everything and come away with him to meet the family.” Bucky aimed a lovesick expression at his ‘boyfriend’ before linking their hands together on the tabletop. “He's just so spontaneous and romantic.”

 

Steve was blushing furiously, and that was great, but Bucky was more interested in what was going on on Sharon's side of the table. She was white-knuckling her fork currently. That was also great.

 

“Steve? Spontaneous?” She finally asked.

 

“Oh yah. He's always whisking me away for day trips and surprises. Remember that time you surprised me at work and pulled me away for a picnic in the middle of the day?”

 

Bucky raised a ‘play along’ eyebrow in Steve's direction.

 

“Uh. Yes. I remember.”

 

Bucky resisted the urge to roll his eyes. _Come on Steve, work with me here._

 

 _“_ Didn’t even have time to pack a bag for the week, Steve just came in and swept me off my feet. And here we are.” Bucky finished his tale with a gooshy smile and another fond look aimed at Steve. He was gonna have to carry most of the weight here, he could tell.

 

It seemed to be working on Sarah though, her expression was soft as she looked at their joined hands on the table.

 

“What do you do for a living Bucky?” Tony was getting interested too. Good.

 

Bucky swallowed another bite of waffle before answering. “I’m currently styling celebrity dogs.” Close enough. Ish.

 

Tony perked up at this. “Anyone we would know?”

 

Bucky gave him an I-wish-I-could-tell-you smile. “Unfortunately part of my contract includes a discretion clause. You understand.”

 

“Did you see that Justin Timberlake's chow chow wore the same sweater as The Rock’s bulldog last week? The bulldog definitely wore it better though.” Tony was grinning widely and practically leaning across the table now in dog-outfit excitement.

 

“Yes, thank you! Somebody gets it!” Bucky slammed his free hand down on the table to punctuate the statement.  

 

“What I’d really like to know though,” Bucky continued with a smile, “is who wore it better when it comes to tiny swim shorts: Steve, or the rest of the swim team? My bet’s on Steve, but maybe you have a photo or two lying around from his Princeton days so we can take an educated vote?”

 

Tony immediately burst out laughing, having to wipe tears from his eyes after a moment. Sarah wasn't quite as loud, but she had propped her elbows on the table and had hidden her face in her hands, shoulders shaking slightly with laughter.

 

“You picked a good one Steve. I can tell.” Tony threw a wink in Steve's direction while Steve’s face got busy inventing eighteen new shades of red.

 

Bucky squeezed Steve's hand in silent apology (#sorrynotsorry) before looking at Sharon, and could practically see the smoke coming out of her ears. Excellent.

 

Also excellent? The swim team photo Sarah later pulled out of a scrapbook for Bucky.

 

Steve had definitely worn it better.

 

* * *

 

Since Bucky hadn’t been lying about not having packed a bag, Steve decided to ‘show Bucky around and also maybe pick up a few things in town.’

 

‘A few things’ to Steve apparently meant ‘a whole new wardrobe,’ and Bucky soon had more (and far nicer) clothing in Steve’s car than he had in his closet at home. Also three new pairs of shoes. Plus a shopping bag full of toiletries. For a week long stint. (He was happy to have his mousse back though, his flouffy hair got all weird without it.)

 

This ‘having a boyfriend’ schtick was not bad. Not bad at all.

 

Shopping with Steve had been actually pretty fun. Steve had loosened up dramatically the further away from the house (and therefore, Sharon) they had gotten, and they had been able to figure out the rest of their dating backstory, plus find out a little more about each other, as Steve loaded Bucky’s arms up with soft shirts and designer jeans before herding him into a dressing room. Bucky tried to stick to as many truths as possible when describing his own life to Steve. The more real the story, the less he had to remember to lie about. In the end, his job, his major, and his actual reason for being here were all he had to keep under wraps. Everything else was just Bucky.

 

Steve wasn’t ‘out’ in public, and there was no one around to pretend for, so there was no pressure either. They had gotten to spend a few hours together as friends, and it was nice. Dangerously nice. Dangerous in the sense that when they got back to the house later that afternoon and Bucky bumped Steve’s shoulder with his own in a silent show of support as they re-entered the house, he almost forgot it wasn’t real.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to get the ball rolling with 3 chapters to start today! I don't yet know how long this will be, but I'll do my best to post once a week on Sundays until it's complete. :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky finally checks in with Natasha and tries to focus on his budding fake relationship with Steve. (Also, did you know Steve Rogers is a little shit? Turns out, he is! Who woulda thought?!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am such a weakling, I really REALLY want to try to stick to a schedule for uploading, but I completely neglected 'adult responsibilities' today and wrote way more than I expected. So here, have another (tiny) chapter, good people! Thanks for the love so far, I hope you enjoy this small update!

 

That ‘almost real’ feeling sure made him feel like shit as he crept off to the bathroom later for a shower and a sneaky conversation with Nat. (Steve had been nice enough, of course, to provide rice for Bucky’s drowned cell phone, and praise the lord, it was back up and running again.)

 

“WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?!” was Natasha’s choice of greeting today. 

 

“Jesus Christ Nat, lower your voice. People in the next state over can hear you.”

 

“Where. Are. You.” Natasha’s demand was pushed through gritted teeth.

 

“I’m at Steve’s.”

 

“Steve’s. Steve Rogers?”

 

“Yes Nat, Steve Rogers’. Because I kick-ass at my job, remember? Listen, I can’t talk for long, but I need you to water my cactus. And also to tell Fury I won’t be in the office this week because I’m working on his assignment.”

 

“Barton’s on plant duty. And what exactly, James, should I tell Fury you’ve found so far?” Natasha’s voice was eerily calm in his ear. 

 

What had he found so far? 

 

Only that Tony (dog outfit connoisseur/grown-up Richie Rich) was dating Sharon Carter (sea witch/rat on stilts) a.k.a Steve’s ex-fiancee. 

 

And that the relationship was ‘serious,’ and likely to lead to a proposal, seeing as Steve was single enough to require a fake boyfriend. 

 

And also that Steve (life-saving lumberjack/heartbroken golden retriever) was secretly Bi. 

 

So just a few things. 

 

“I’m still working out the details Nat, but I’ll have a full article next Monday, and a new corner office to enjoy it in.”

 

The deflection sounded good to Bucky’s ears, but he was dealing with a professional here. He held his breath. 

 

Natasha finally let out a long sigh. 

 

“Be safe,” she finally said. “And I expect at least one more check-in call this week so I know you’re still alive, got it?”

 

Bucky exhaled with relief. He was off the hook for now. “Loud and clear.”

 

“And James?”

 

“Yes Nat?”

 

“Don’t fuck this up.”

 

Bucky wasn’t sure if she was referring to the article or something else, but the dial tone suddenly sounding in his ear left little room for questions. Natasha wasn’t one for drawn-out goodbyes. 

 

Bucky turned his phone back off (he didn’t need any rando calls blowing his cover) and finally stripped down to step into the shower. 

 

The large glass walk-in had about a hundred jets coming from the walls and ceiling, and Bucky wanted to linger and test the settings on each one, but he was reluctant to leave Steve alone with the dynamic fucking duo for longer than strictly necessary. He showered quickly, brushing his teeth and doing his hair in record time before pulling on one of his new outfits. He did take a quick moment to check himself out in one of the full-length mirrors before descending the stairs though. Steve’s clothing choices actually looked pretty damn good on him. Go figure. 

 

Bucky quickly found Steve in the living room, his ‘I’m terribly uncomfortable’ face on display as he sat rigidly on one of the leather sofas. 

 

Tony and Sharon occupied the other couch, Sharon having wound around Tony like the little two-legged snake-bitch she was. Bucky resisted the urge to dry heave into his mouth. He had just brushed his teeth. 

 

He cleared his throat as he entered the room and Steve immediately jumped up to greet him, taking his hands as Bucky approached, his depressingly flat face melting into a slow smile. Without letting go, Steve gave Bucky a quick top-to-bottom appraising look that had Bucky blushing a bit. 

 

“Hey, you look great! Do you feel better?”

 

Bucky had forgotten that Steve had only seen him in soaked clothing and oversized sweatpants up until this point. 

 

“Much better. Thank you for the clothes.” Bucky leaned in and kissed Steve on the cheek. Steve did have a bit of a beard in the works, and it tickled Bucky’s lips happily. It was nice. 

 

Steve’s smile widened as he led Bucky back to the couch. Bucky tucked himself in beside Steve, letting Steve’s arm drape over Bucky’s shoulders possessively. 

 

“Tony was just mentioning a few activities we should get up to this week, since you’re new to the area and all.” Steve caught him up. 

 

“Those of us who have been coming here for years will be able to show you the best sights. You’ll be able to do the same for others eventually, if you and Steve actually work out.” Sharon’s voice dripped with condescension. 

 

Bucky tightened his grip on Steve’s hand and didn’t let his fake smile reach his eyes as he turned to Sharon. “Thanks so much for that Sharon, that’s great. Because you know, I had heard that you’ve been around the block here once or twice before, but I’m glad to finally get some confirmation there. If I need any tips, I’ll be sure to come to you.” Bucky punctuated his statement with wink before feeling Steve’s hand squeeze back, a quiet warning. 

 

Bucky hadn’t realized he had been slowly leaning forward towards Sharon, his ‘smile’ showing more teeth than what could ever be considered polite. He casually leaned back into Steve’s embrace, acknowledging, but not apologizing for, his thinly veiled disdain. 

 

Bucky put on a genuine smile before turning to face Tony. “So what did we have planned this week?”

 

* * *

 

It was pure luck (or actually, Steve’s logical foresight) that had resulted in one of Bucky’s three new pairs of shoes being running shoes. (He also had a dress pair and a business-casual pair for more everyday activities. Nice.)

 

They had decided to take a post-dinner walk, and Bucky was currently taking in the sights and sounds of the woods surrounding the Rogers’ home. A person could really get lost out here. Like, mentally, in the beauty. But also literally, in the trees. (He knew from experience.)

 

Tony and Sharon were a ways ahead of the pack, followed by Sarah in the middle, with Bucky and Steve trailing behind at the rear of their rag-tag tour group. 

 

Bucky was trying to listen to Sarah talk about trees and watch her point out interesting sights, but he was having a hard time currently. Because when Sarah would turn around from walking backwards to explain something, Bucky would be busy trying to kick Steve’s feet out from under him, or shove him off the trail into the bushes. Which sounded mean. And maybe would be. Except Steve had started it first. 

 

As it turned out, Steve Rogers was a little shit. 

 

The other problem was, Steve Rogers was also an angel descended from heaven, with the composure to match. He could go from trying to knock Bucky over to perfect golden prince the split second before his mother turned around. Which meant Bucky was caught red-handed by Sarah when she finally turned around just as Bucky was manhandling Steve towards a big mud puddle. (Unsuccessfully, sadly enough. Long swimmer’s legs had been able to jump it.)

 

To his surprise, Sarah didn’t reprimand him. She instead gave them both an affectionate roll of the eyes before smiling warmly at Bucky and continuing on her way. 

 

Steve (golden prince/little shit) used this momentary distraction to his advantage, and Bucky was very quickly shoulder-checked off the path into a patch of blueberry bushes, a delicious, albeit scratchy, end to their game. 

  
It was worth it though, because Bucky had finally gotten the ‘out-loud’ laugh he had been pining for from Steve in that moment. And despite the prickliness of roadside vegetation, it had felt really good.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BED SHARING! Also, Bucky occupies the ever-balmy Denial Isle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I have a terrible obsession with this. This updating streak cannot continue forever. But I can't stop. So here's another chapter. 
> 
> Also, a round of cacti, on me, for all you beautiful commenters and kudosers! You deserve it. <3

 

 

Bucky didn’t really know why he hadn’t considered this before. But here he was, in his soft new pajamas, staring down at the king-sized bed in Steve’s bedroom. His _real_ room, not the little cabin room he seemed to prefer so much.

 

Steve’s room at the cabin had been very _Steve_ in Bucky’s opinion, warm and masculine and simple. He had learned that the ‘caretaker's cabin’ was really rarely used by anyone except for Steve as part of their ‘get to know you’ talk during the shopping trip. It was mostly a place for staff to stay if they were needed overnight on the grounds for any reason, so Steve had slowly made his home-away-from-home there, preferring to avoid the phone, the internet, and seemingly, people in general while he was there taking a break from things.

 

He had also learned that Steve had only recently graduated from Princeton, but the more Bucky had inquired, the more it seemed that Steve hadn’t wanted to linger on the topic of what he had planned for his career, so Bucky hadn’t pressed the issue. Steve had basically said he had decided to take the summer to ‘think things over,’ whatever that meant, so Bucky assumed there was something in the works there. Everyone expected Steve to fill his late father’s shoes in politics, so Bucky guessed Steve just needed a little vacay time before running for any kind of office. Understandable.

 

But back to the bed. Because the bed was the most prominent of Bucky’s problems right now. It was large and comfy looking, the room that held it still feeling like Steve, but not in the same way the cabin felt. This room was Steve in a well-fitted suit. The cabin was Steve in sweatpants, cooking eggs for Bucky in his bare feet. Bucky didn’t know what he preferred more, honestly. They were both good. Two sides of the same coin.

 

Bucky was probably overthinking this.

 

He and Steve had gotten through a surprisingly successful day one, like an upbeat couple on Trading Spaces. (Bucky’s references were classics steeped in time, ok? And early 2000’s room decorating challenge TV shows made him happy. Don’t judge him.) He had started slumping against Steve’s side in a sleepy haze as they sat on the couch for a movie after a happily uneventful late dinner, and Steve had eventually hauled him to his feet and led him up the stairs to the now problematic bed. He had expected to be led to a guest room, much like he had used what he now knew was a guest bathroom (also, if that was a ‘guest’ bathroom, Bucky couldn’t wait to see Steve’s en-suite, which he was currently occupying) to shower earlier.

 

But when they came to the top of the stairs, Bucky was led down the hallway to a room with double doors, the large wooden entryway swinging open to reveal an attractive navy blue room with tall, wide windows. A four poster bed was the main piece of furniture, but there was also a desk, a large collection of books, and a small sitting area, as well as a walk in closet. A quick glance in the closet confirmed that all of his new clothes had been washed and neatly hung in alongside Steve’s things, looking almost like they belonged there. He even had his own drawer for socks and underwear. Well played, invisible mansion staff. Well played.

 

After a quick look around, Bucky had quickly pulled on his jammies and was now at a standstill, fretting about bed-sharing while waiting for Steve to finish up in the bathroom. No biggie.

 

Steve soon exited the bathroom and Bucky smirked a little at his easy expression - Steve hadn’t thought this through either. He quickly spotted Bucky standing by the bed, and yep, there it was, that classic Steve Rogers shade of red Bucky had come to know, as it dawned on Steve that they would be sleeping together tonight.

 

Bucky felt his own confidence scootch up a notch at Steve’s nervousness. Bucky was determined to make this week a good one for Steve, and that meant being a good fake boyfriend, even when there was no one else in the room. He was obviously leading the charge so far, it was only right that he continue on with gusto. Also Steve might pass out if any more blood drained from his brain into his face. A man’s work was never done, it seemed.

 

“Let me brush my teeth then we’ll get some sleep.” Bucky tried to keep his voice reassuring. He grabbed his little toiletries bag and gave Steve a gentle smile before he entered the (fucking majestic) en-suite and went through his bathroom routine,

 

When he came out a few minutes later, Steve was already in the bed with the lights off and the blankets pulled up to his chin.

 

It took Bucky’s vision a few moments to adjust, but he could soon see bright blue eyes and blonde bed-head poking up over the top of the duvet. It was devastatingly cute. Steve looked so small like this somehow. Bucky was having a very difficult time not running over and immediately wrapping Steve up in his arms. Something about this guy made Bucky want to look after him. It was. Unusual.

 

Bucky, with a calm he did not feel, slowly made his way over to the bed and pulled back the blankets before climbing into the free side. He was immediately enveloped in heat and softness and the smell of Steve’s skin, the combined sensations overriding his senses for a moment. Before he had the good sense to stop himself, he rolled over to face Steve and rested a hand on his shoulder.

 

“You did really good today, you know.” Bucky’s voice was almost a whisper, unnecessary because he knew Steve practically had his own wing in the house, but it still felt right somehow. “You were handed a really bad situation this morning, and you’re still standing in the end. That’s no small thing.”

 

Steve’s eyes were liquid silver now in the moonlight filtering into the room, his voice equally quiet when he spoke.

 

“Only because of you. I couldn’t do this without you Buck. Are you sure this isn’t too difficult for you? After everything?”

 

“After what?” Bucky needed some clarification here.

 

“After your break-up. I don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position.”

 

Bucky swallowed. He had honestly forgotten. “Steve, I promise you, you are not keeping me here against my will, at all. You saved my life, and I owe you. But more than that, I want to be here. Let me help you get through this, ok? You deserve it.”

 

Steve smiled then and Bucky’s chest hurt, it fucking hurt, because it was so sincere and Bucky suddenly wanted to cry a little because everything he had just said was true. It was only day one, and it wasn’t really about the article anymore.

 

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut as Steve’s arm slipped around his waist and pulled him gently closer, before Steve mumbled out a sleepy noise that sounded like a “thank you,” and he drifted off to sleep.

 

Bucky lay awake for a long time that night before total exhaustion finally pulled him under too.

 

* * *

 

Bucky woke up the next morning with a plan. It was a great plan too. It was this new thing he had invented, called “procrastination.”

 

Because he had this little article thing due at the beginning of next week (Monday). But that was still like, way in the future. Because today was Sunday. So his awesome new plan was to forget about it. Put it off. Because why worry about the future? What if a meteor hit earth before next Monday had the chance to happen? He would have wasted so much time worrying. So that was now a Future Bucky problem. And honestly, fuck that guy. Current Bucky had his own shit going on. Future Bucky would just have to look after himself when the time came. (And Nat had said Bucky was terrible at plans! Ha!)

 

So Bucky felt way better, with this new plan in place. He would be a kick-ass fake-boyfriend to Steve for the week, and let Future Bucky clean up the mess later. It would be _fine._ Future Bucky had a really high IQ, and was also really handsome. He’d figure it out.

 

Bucky’s chest felt metaphorically lighter with this new revelation when he awoke that morning, but it was physically restricted at the moment because Steve was using him as a goddamn arm pillow. Bucky couldn’t really breathe right.

 

“Psst, Steve! I can’t breathe!” Bucky did a ‘I’m trying not to wake you, but totally actually trying to wake you’ whisper thing that was thankfully successful in rousing his bedmate. Steve grumbled a little and started to stir, but instead of actually moving his arm, he pulled Bucky closer and started to… play wrestle with him? Bucky’s eyes shot open wide. Steve wasn’t the only thing being, uh, roused, this morning. _Angle_ _away!_ He thought desperately as Steve flopped around, currently trying to playfully smother Bucky with a pillow. What was it about himself that indicated he always wanted Steve to attempt to fight him? This was coming almost directly on the heels of the blueberry incident. What sort of vibe was Bucky giving off? These were questions for another time though. Because now was the time for Bucky to win whatever war Steve was waging.

 

“Maybe a little less breathing will help that snoring issue you’ve got going on.” Steve taunted, a pleased fire lighting his eyes, and Bucky squealed helplessly as Steve abandoned his murder-pillow and moved on to tickling. Who the fuck was this ‘Morning Steve’ and where had he come from? This was too much. Another delightful side to the Steve coin had just been revealed.  

 

“Outta my face, morning-breath!” Bucky shouted and did a quick little flip thing that ended with him pinning Steve to the bed, arms held above his head against the mattress as Bucky straddled Steve’s waist. They were both panting for air slightly, and Bucky breathed his own terrible breath in Steve’s face as he leaned in and whispered cockily, “I won.”

 

Steve didn’t reply, and his smile didn’t go away necessarily, rather it changed into something else, something not easily described. Something that had Bucky’s stomach pulsing low with heat.

 

A sudden knock on the door had Bucky instantly flinging himself off of Steve and onto his own side of the bed as Sarah’s voice permeated the wood. “Breakfast in 15, boys.”

 

“Thanks Ma!” Steve’s voice was a little rough and he dragged a hand through his messy hair as though he was still trying to process what had just happened there. Bucky was feeling similarly out of sorts.

 

Bucky shook his head. ‘Morning Steve.’ Who woulda thought?

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day at the beach has Bucky happily engaging in his 'forget every problem ever' plan, but a reminder from Steve has him questioning how long he can keep this up.

 

 

The atmosphere at the breakfast table was funny that morning. Steve was still in an unusually giddy mood and it was making it hard for Bucky not to laugh as Steve bumbled around the breakfast buffet merrily, like a cartoon bee going from flower to flower, filling up his plate with fruit. Steve’s cheeks held a healthy flush as he took a seat next to Bucky, everyone else in the same seats they had occupied at yesterday’s brunch. 

 

Tony caught Bucky’s eye and gave him a big grin and a slight kick under the table. It was obvious everyone thought they had been... together last night, and Bucky wasn’t about to correct their assumptions. It did make his face heat up though as Tony gave him a sly thumbs up from across the table. Sharon hadn’t lifted her eyes from her plate in over 5 minutes. Sarah just smiled. 

 

Steve was sunshine-happy and puppy-oblivious though, so that was really all that mattered in the end.

 

* * *

 

 

“I'm in a dream! I'm in a movie! I'm a movie star! Steve, look at me! Look at how I am right now! Take my picture!” 

 

Steve let out a snort and shook his head, but still raised his phone and took a photo. He lifted his sunglasses and glanced down at his screen before his amused face pulled into a very pretend frown. “I dunno. I think Leonardo DiCaprio would’ve done it better.”

 

Bucky was currently wrapped around the neck of their obnoxiously large swan-shaped paddle boat, in what Bucky could tell was a very sexy pose. 

 

“I'm not Leo, Steve, I am obviously Jennifer Grey and this swan is Patrick Swayze. We just fell in love in the Catskills. And now we're gonna win the talent show.”

 

“‘Nobody puts Bucky in the corner,’” Steve chuckled before putting his sunglasses back on his nose and continuing to paddle. Thank god for Steve. Bucky's legs were tired and they were in the middle of a fucking lake. In a swan boat. On a beautiful Sunday afternoon. Blessings. (Also thank you god, for Steve today, because he currently looked like some sort of country-club model, in his tan shorts and striped shirt and designer sunglasses and boat shoes. Steve owned boat shoes. And goddamnit, he pulled them off.)

 

It had been the collective agreement of the group that the week should be spent enjoying the good weather and all the activities the area had to offer, so there was a shit-ton of hiking and sightseeing and other outdoorsy things on the docket. Bucky was excited. He didn't really ever leave the city. This was like an unexpected vacation. 

 

Their destination today had been a beautiful lake surrounded by their intended purpose for the day, hiking trails, but Bucky had fucking magnetized towards the swan boats when he saw them. They were huge! And swan-y! And Bucky wanted to go in one. 

 

So they decided to split off from the group for a bit. Tony, Sharon, and Sarah were probably sweating their asses off hiking along some cow path right now. Bucky was currently breezing along in a swan boat with a handsome millionaire. What a life. 

 

Bucky readjusted his own (borrowed, thanks Steve!) sunglasses as he flopped back down in his seat. “Steeeeeve. Please take me back to shore. I got my photo. And now I’m done.” Bucky reclined in his seat as he waited for the boat to start turning back to the dock. Oddly enough though, Steve stopped paddling instead. 

 

“You’re done? You can’t be done! We’ve only been out here for half an hour! The trail everyone else is on is a two hour hike! And the swan boats were your idea!” Steve threw his hands in the air before slumping back into his own seat, taking his feet off the pedals. “If you wanna go back to shore, you’re the one taking us there.”

 

Steve propped his impressive arms up behind his head and leaned back like a Calvin Klein model in the middle of a photo shoot, enjoying the sunshine, oblivious to (or maybe ignoring) Bucky's astonishment. His eyes slipped closed under his sunglasses, and Bucky blinked. 

 

They drifted in silence for twenty two and a half minutes, Steve’s face as calm and serene as ever, before Bucky reluctantly put his feet on the pedals and navigated them back to shore. 

 

Bucky had a hard time keeping his grumpy demeanor up when Steve bought him ice cream after though. 

 

Fucking Steve.

 

* * *

Bucky was currently housing two scoops of mint chip and a waffle cone in his belly, but there were asses to be kicked, so what could he do? Especially if it was Tony and Sharon’s asses. 

 

Sarah, looking somehow flawless after a long summer hike in that way that only rich people seemed able to achieve (Bucky was convinced that the larger your bank account, the smaller your pores were) was acting as unofficial referee in a cutthroat volleyball game. Bucky was pretty much taking no prisoners here, but hadn’t accounted for Steve’s competitive edge. Steve was a  _ beast.  _ Like, for real, with these insane jumping serves and grunting noises, oh jesus, the grunting noises. Bucky dug his bare feet into the sand and wiped his brow. Fuck, it was hot out and Steve wasn’t helping. Bucky skin felt like the surface of the sun. 

 

Steve threw out one more massive serve, which was shakily returned by Sharon before Bucky jumped up and slammed it back over the net into the sand, letting out a (totally modest) woop of success for getting the winning hit. That was it! 

 

Strong arms suddenly wrapped around him from behind and Steve was pulling Bucky back towards his chest, grinning from ear to ear. “Nice one Buck.” 

 

Steve looked so happy and Bucky couldn’t help it, he turned in his arms and soon lips were meeting lips, and  _ yes _ , this was what Bucky wanted. Steve tasted like ice cream and sunshine and victory and it was the sweetest sensation on his tongue, like heaven opened up an express lane into his mouth. 

 

Steve remained steady as he set his hands on Bucky’s waist and kept him pulled close, his head tilting slightly to get a better angle, get closer, kiss deeper. Bucky leaned into it, would have gotten lost in it, if not for the very loud, “We get it! You won! Now get a room!” shouted by Tony from across the net. 

 

Bucky pulled back quickly, face reddening, and Steve leaned back too, but didn’t step away. His gaze remained locked with Bucky’s for a moment before he raised a hand and an eyebrow in Tony’s direction, flicking a middle finger up with a grin. “All these years and you’re still a sore loser Tony!” Steve shouted back. Steve linked his hand with Bucky’s and led him off to the side of the court. Good thing, because Bucky didn’t know which way was up right now. 

 

They made their way to the little bench where they had parked their shoes and sat down together, Steve bumping Bucky’s shoulder slightly, his expression losing a bit of it’s light as he slipped his Sperrys on. “Good thinking with the PDA,” he said quietly, “It’s smart to step it up more, keep it real looking, you know?” 

 

Bucky’s chest deflated as the pressure of the entire universe quickly came rushing back. He nodded. “Yep.” 

 

Steve turned on the bench, any sort of smile being replaced with a searching gaze now. “You ok?”

 

Bucky swallowed and nodded again. “Great. Just spent a lot of time in the sun today. I should probably take a break.” 

 

Steve gave him a considering look. “Ok. Just let me know if you need me?” 

 

That’s kind of the problem Steve. “Yah. For sure.” 

 

That analyzing look remained as Steve stood up from the bench, his concern transferring from his face to his spine somehow as Bucky watched him retreat over to Sharon and Tony. 

 

Sarah slipped into Steve’s spot a few moments later. “Good game,” she said mildly. 

 

“Thanks.” Bucky mentally kicked himself for his melancholy reply. Stick to the plan. Be happy. Be a great fake boyfriend. Worry later. This sad bench-dweller routine was not going to sell anything.

 

Do better.  

 

He turned on a smile. 

 

“How was the hike?”

 

“Long.” Sarah sighed. She shot Bucky a sly smile with the corner of her mouth. “Despite what we have planned this week, Tony and Sharon aren’t exactly outdoorsy. This is definitely more of Steve’s element. They wanted to turn around after half an hour!” Sarah threw exasperated hands up in the air. “I told them you and Steve had rented the swan boat for the full two hours, so I made them stick it out. I didn’t want them interrupting your alone time.” 

 

Bucky didn’t have to work to summon a smile this time. “Quitting after half an hour?” Bucky scoffed, and shook his head in solidarity. "Unheard of. But thank you for that.” 

 

Sarah turned to face him fully. “Actually, Bucky, thank you. I’m really glad Steve invited you to stay for the week. There was certainly a greater power at work with the timing, but I’m thankful he has someone here who loves him. This Sharon and Tony situation is… unexpected, to say the least. But I’m very happy Steve isn’t alone. And you seem to be good for him. I haven’t heard Steve laugh the way he has with you in far too long. So thank you, for caring about him.” 

 

Bucky’s mouth worked for a moment before he could get words out. “It’s not exactly a hardship, ma’am. Steve is easy to care about.” 

 

Sarah smiled and patted the hand he had been gripping the bench with. “All the same, thank you. And for heaven's sake, call me Sarah. I’m your future mother-in-law, not your schoolteacher.” She ended the statement with an exaggeratedly cheeky wink. 

 

Bucky couldn't help but bark out a laugh at that, and when he and Sarah joined the group a few minutes later, Bucky slipped a casual arm around Steve’s waist and pulled him closer. A small smile finally returned to Steve’s face, and Bucky's heart didn't feel quite so heavy anymore. 

 

He could do this. For Steve. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little happy and a little not-so-happy! Sorry fam! But I've discovered it makes me sad to write sad Bucky, so I'll be keeping the low feelings to a minimum, except when plot demands it. Hope this wasn't too depressing of a note to end on, I promise sincere conversations and maybe some snuggles in Chapter 7! Thanks for sticking with me, lovely people! <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honest conversations and some snuggles are always a good way to end a day in fake-relationship land. Bucky is able to relax for a while, but Steve may not be as ok with their current relationship status as his cool exterior lets on. Feelings abound.

 

 

It wasn’t so much that the house was huge, as much as it was a confusing layout. Which was how Bucky ended up turned around in a hallway with all the doors looking the same. From Steve’s directions, he knew one of these led to a library, he just wasn’t sure which one.

 

Despite the weather that afternoon, clouds had rolled in through the evening and rain had begun pounding down, the sound of it hitting the window panes making Bucky want to wrap up with a blanket and a book. Everyone in the house seemed to be feeling the same, so they had all dispersed to their own quiet corners of the mansion after dinner.

 

Bucky selected a door at random and opened it. Nope. Linen closet. He went to the next one. Also a no. This was… an art studio of some kind?

 

He flicked the light switch and the room lit up, the track lighting illuminating a large windowed room with an eclectic mix of furniture. A surprisingly vintage-looking sofa occupied one corner, but most of the space was taken up with art supplies and canvases, some completed, some seeming to still be in progress.

 

Bucky followed his feet inside and approached the work currently resting on a massive easel. It had to be at least 6 feet long and half as tall, the painted scene reminding him of New York in the fall. Reds and browns and smoky greys, with a reflection of gold and silver here and there. It was abstract, yes, but he felt like he was looking at the city from a distance on a cool October morning. It was crisp and homey and refreshing. Bucky couldn’t pull his eyes away.

 

“Buck, did you find the libr-” Steve stepped into the room and stopped dead. Bucky finally turned away from the artwork, taking in Steve’s stricken expression.

 

“Steve, did you paint this? These?” He asked, gesturing to the collective work in the room. The remaining canvases were of a similar style, gentle yet expressive, letting the viewer see what they wanted in them.

 

Steve’s throat bobbed as he nodded silently.

 

Bucky let out a breath. “Steve, these are beautiful. Stunning, actually. How long have you been painting?”

 

Steve’s uncomfortable expression didn’t leave his face, but his shoulders relaxed slightly. “Since high school.” He shrugged slightly. “It’s just a hobby.”

 

“Just a hobby? Do you know how many shitty New York gallery openings I’ve been to in my time? These blow all of those away. Steve, this stuff is professional quality. Why aren’t you doing something with this? There’s gotta be 20 finished canvases stacked against that one wall alone!”

 

Steve looked to his shoes for a moment. “It’s not what I should be focusing on. I’m supposed to be a politician, remember? Just like Dad was.”

 

Bucky stepped closer and ducked under Steve’s gaze, making him look up and meet his eyes. “Supposed to? Steve, do you even want to go into politics?”

 

Steve’s silence was pretty much answer enough.

 

“Steve.” Bucky sighed. He was probably overstepping here, but couldn’t let Steve just throw away his talent, his life, for something he didn’t love. “I’m not telling you what to do. But I am telling you that you have talent. A lot of it. And it would be a shame to waste it, or keep it hidden. These pieces deserve to be seen.”

 

Steve’s eyes were crystal blue and shining at Bucky’s words. “You really think they’re good?”

 

“Steve, they’re gorgeous. Does Sarah know about this?”

 

“Yeah,” Steve shrugged, “but she’s biased. And I know she would be proud if I took after Dad.”

 

“Sarah would be proud if you were a circus clown, Steve. I think what she really wants is for you to be happy in life. You should talk to her.”

 

Steve didn’t reply to this, but his face had eased into a more thoughtful expression. He gently took Bucky’s hand and led him out of the room with a quiet smile. “Come on, library’s this way.”

 

* * *

 

There were about half a dozen sitting rooms to choose from, so how he and Steve ended up curled up with a book each in Steve’s bed was a bit of a mystery, but Bucky wasn’t complaining. It was hard to focus on his book though, with Steve’s heat and smell and soft sheets enveloping him. Also, Steve had dug a pair of thick framed reading glasses out of god knows where, and the sight of Steve in them was doing terrible things to Bucky’s body. Steve’s eyes looked so big and blue, his eyelashes so long, it was almost otherworldly. He also still hadn’t shaved yet, so his stubble was quickly developing into a beard. Bucky had met a lot of different ‘Steves’ so far, but he was pretty sure ‘Bearded Professor Steve’ was gonna be the death of him.

 

“Good paragraph?” Professor Steve lifted one inquiring eyebrow. Fuck. Stop.

 

“Huh?” Bucky replied intelligently. He was maybe a little distracted.

 

“Is that a good paragraph? You haven’t turned a page in like, 5 minutes.”

 

“Oh.” More like ‘oh fuck’. He had been subtly ogling Steve from the corner of his eye this whole time, but had not been subtle enough, apparently. Or maybe Steve was an excellent sleuth. It was probably that. Bucky was very subtle.

 

Bucky decided to ignore Detective Steve’s question (and also ignore, IGNORE (!) the mental image of Steve in some sort of sexy Sherlock Holmes outfit) and instead yawned and stretched, putting down his book before he burrowed a little further into his blanket nest. He was feeling a little drowsy, his brain was floppy and his guard was down, so his sleepy-reckless levels were up.

 

“And how exactly did you know, good sir, that I had been ignoring my own reading material, if you yourself were so focused on your own pages? Somebody here is a hypocrite, and I bet you a hundred bucks it’s the guy in the glasses. He’s giving me that vibe. He looks like a creep, too.”

 

“A creep!” Steve’s book was down now too and he was rolling over quickly to face Bucky, the covers bunching up around them with his hasty movements. “A creep, he says!” He repeated, face still looking fond and exasperated and slightly pink.

 

“You don’t even have a comeback!” Bucky laughed and reached out to slightly straighten the frames on Steve’s face, currently half squished against the pillow. “You’re such a nerd. You know it’s true. You can’t even deny it!”

 

“Maybe I’m just too modest and wonderful to feel the need to defend myself. This is the high road. I’m taking the high road.” Steve defended.

 

“That’s such a nerd thing to say Steve, you’re only proving my point. There’s no such thing as the high road. It’s all about the destination. No one really cares how you get there.”

 

“Maybe I care. Maybe the journey is the important part. It’s not where you end up, it’s how you get there and why you went in the first place. It’s about the actual intent behind the action, isn’t it? The sincerity of the act?”

 

Bucky’s brain hurt and thinking was hard, so he filed Steve’s comments away for future analysis. He did still have a few reporter skills left, after all. “Oh my god Professor, save it for your class. It’s too late for these theoretical discussions.”

 

“It’s 8:30, Bucky.”

 

“It’s too late Steve! And only nerds wear watches. Use your phone like a normal terrible human, ok?”

 

“No. Also, apologize to me.”

 

Bucky rolled his eyes and sighed in fake-defeat. “Fine. You’re not a creep, ok? You’re a handsome genius lumberjack artist and the whole world is in love with you. And I’m sorry you’re such a nerd. Better?”

 

Steve laughed. “Better.”

 

“Good. Now, what are we doing, if not reading?”

 

“Netflix?”

 

“Netflix.”

 

Steve grabbed his tablet from the nightstand and loaded the app while Bucky scooched closer. The tablet wasn’t gigantic and they were coming up to the paintball episodes of Community. He couldn’t miss that. “Psst, Steve! I can’t see!”

 

“Jesus Buck. First, you don’t need to say ‘psst’ if you’re just gonna yell in my ear. That doesn’t make sense. Second, it’s not even loaded yet. And third, come closer, you jerk. There are solutions to these problems.”

 

“Glad to see that Princeton education was good for something after all, punk.” Bucky ribbed before immediately shutting up. Fuck, talk about a sore subject. Bucky was an idiot.

 

To his delight, instead of Steve shutting down, he let out the loudest laugh Bucky had heard yet. “Damn right.” He replied with a smile before pulling Bucky in under his arm.

 

In the end, Bucky ended up pressed against Steve’s side with his head on his chest, Steve’s left arm wrapped around his back. His hand traced light little patterns into Bucky’s back through his shirt and it felt so nice, just calm and warm, the stress of that afternoon nothing but a memory when he was wrapped up like this. He could hear Steve’s heart pumping steady and true through his shirt, and that was nice too. Everything felt right.

 

When Bucky fell asleep soon after, wrapped up in Steve’s arms, he didn’t realize Steve was the one who was lying awake that night, thinking. He didn’t consciously feel Steve card his hand gently through Bucky’s hair, and he didn’t know that Steve was as full of turmoil as he had been the night before. Bucky just felt warm, safe, and cared for.

 

Steve swallowed the lump in his throat and fell asleep just before the sun came up. And that was how they ended day two.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I *literally* just finished this chapter so decided to put it up, because why wait? Actually, there's a pretty good reason for waiting: I like to have a buffer chapter between what I write and actually post, just in case, but I'm not doing that today. So there is no Chapter 8 written yet, but there is a long weekend coming up, meaning I'll have more writing time soon. For now, enjoy everything I have. You are officially caught up, congratulations! :D
> 
> Also, if this is annoying and you'd rather I stick to a schedule please let me know. What's better? Random chapters as I write them, or a weekly schedule? Let me know if you have a preference!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky overhears an important conversation and has some choices to make. He also discovers he is better at eating than being active (surprise!) and this leads to a few other delicious developments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I should put a disclaimer here that I live in Canada and have never been to New York or the Catskills, so my knowledge of activities there is based on "Catskills Activities" Google searches. Let the fun times roll!

 

 

Steve was still asleep when Bucky woke up that morning, and Bucky was proud to say he spent a surprisingly small amount of time staring at his sleeping face like a weirdo stalker. Steve was really pretty. Like, he was handsome, of course, but Bucky also thought he was pretty. He didn't know why the distinguishment was there, he only knew that it was. 

 

So Steve was pretty and Bucky was weird, but he only spent 15 minutes looking at Steve before he slipped from the covers and made his way downstairs for coffee, so that was fairly respectable. He kept his pajamas on, as he figured he'd grab a cup and sneak back into bed to keep going on his book as he waited for Steve to wake up. He liked being the first one to see the morning’s light hit blue eyes as they opened. 

 

He padded down the stairs and wandered through the maze of hallways until he got to the kitchen, rummaging around in the cabinets until he came up with a large mug. He loaded it up with liquid life and was about to exit the kitchen when he heard voices approaching in the hallway. An angry female voice in particular. Sharon's voice. 

 

“...So it's hardly too soon Tony! I've practically been part of the family for years.”

 

“As Steve's partner, Sharon, not mine. It just seems fast. We only told Steve a few days ago that we were even seeing each other. And now to spring this too? I don't want to overwhelm him.” 

 

Bucky could practically hear Sharon's frustrated eye roll from here. 

 

“We already have the ring Tony. We've talked about this. Forget about Steve for a change and think about what’s best for me, for us. I make you happy. Don't you want the same for me?”

 

Bucky strained his ears to count the seconds in Tony’s pause. Holy shit, this was intense. 

 

“You know I do.” Tony finally replied after a beat. He sounded slightly exhausted to Bucky's ears, but maybe Bucky was just projecting. Sharon made him feel exhausted, too. 

 

“So you'll do it at the gala on Friday?” Sharon was tenacious. 

 

“Yes. Friday night.” 

 

“Good.” There was a wet smoochy sound that made Bucky’s stomach roll, but the topic of conversation was the truly sickening part. 

 

Tony was going to propose to Sharon on Friday night.  

 

This was what Bucky had been waiting for. This is why he was here. He'd find out soon enough what this gala was, and where it was taking place. He could call Clint and have him there on Friday to capture a spread of professional photos ready to go along with a front page story, written by James Buchanan fucking Barnes. 

 

Bucky could turn on his phone and call Fury right now, secure his promotion before the ring even slid on Sharon's slimy finger. 

 

Bucky could do a lot of things. 

 

Bucky took his coffee upstairs and slipped back into bed with Steve. 

 

This was the right choice for now.

 

* * *

Bucky was gifted with summer blue eyes fluttering open a short while later, so he gently set his book aside and rolled over in bed. 

 

“Hey.” His voice was quiet in the calm of the morning. 

 

“Hey yourself.” Steve blinked up at him sleepily. 

 

“Ready for another good day?” Bucky asked. 

 

Steve's smile rivaled the sunlight filtering in through the windows. 

 

“With you? Always.”

 

* * *

“I don’t think I can do this Steve.”

 

“I know you can Buck, you’re just overthinking it. You’ve just gotta let go.”

 

“I don’t wanna.”

 

“I’ll be right behind you! I promise, just let go. It’s fun!”

 

“I don’t wanna die. Promise me that I won’t die”

 

“I promise, you won’t die.” 

 

“I’ll see you at the end?”

 

“The end of the line Buck. I swear. I’ll be there.”

 

Bucky let go. 

 

As he shot down a mountainside at an outrageously terrifying speed on a stupid little line in a stupid little harness, Bucky wondered just how he ever let Steve talk him into ziplining in the first place. Jesus Fucking Christ. The things he did for this man.

 

* * *

Bucky’s noodle legs still had not gone away twenty minutes after the “Fun Adventure!” of speeding down a fucking paper-thin cable as his life flashed before his eyes, so Steve took pity on him and let them skip the remaining lines while Sharon and Tony went on to complete the full course. Sarah had stayed home that day, because she was obviously a genius. 

 

Bucky was discovering that it was very easy to sway Steve when he either did or did not want to do something badly enough (see: glorious swan boats vs. ziplines of death) so now they were puttering around at a little old-fashioned chocolate shop instead. This was very much Bucky’s speed, thank you. And there were samples. Samples! Bucky’s main form of nourishment. Excellent. 

 

“Steve! Try this one! Please, it’s spicy! It’s got chilli flakes! Try! I swear, it’s so good, it’s so much better than ziplining!” 

 

Bucky plucked up a little truffle from the sample stand and moved with purpose over to Steve, who was analyzing some sort of chocolate truffle schematic on the wall. How could someone so attractive have the potential to be  _ so boring  _ at the same time? “Steve, open your mouth.” 

 

Steve turned to Bucky, mouth opening to say something, but he was cut off as Bucky shoved a dark chocolate and chilli flavoured drop of perfection onto his tongue. Bucky had been a little gung-ho with his approach, and one of his fingers had somehow ended up with Steve’s mouth wrapped around it at the last second. He pulled it out with a soft pop of Steve’s lips, but the damage was done. Bucky was getting a chubby in an old timey chocolate factory. Ah Christ. Not again. 

 

It also didn’t help that he was staring directly into Steve’s eyes at the time. Eyes that had flickered shut, only to reopen one shade darker a long moment later. 

 

Steve was. Oh my god. Steve was aroused too. 

 

Steve licked his lips and looked away. 

 

Oh. My. God. 

 

“It’s good.” Steve finally turned back and broke the silence. 

 

Somebody get Bucky to a truffle diagram STAT, because his whole body had suddenly become molten chocolate, and he was gonna melt right through the floor. How the fuck was he supposed to put himself back together after this?  

 

“Real good.” Bucky’s reply was a little slow and a little rough. Holy shit. He basically just had eye sex and mouth sex, simultaneously, with Steve, in public. The little grandma-like sample lady was like, three paces away. He was gonna get arrested any minute for public indecency. He knew it. 

 

Bucky quickly glanced around. The rest of the world seemed pretty much as it had been 30 seconds ago, although in Bucky’s brain, it felt like everything had shifted one degree to the left. Everything was the same, but everything was very, very different. 

 

Steve. Steve wanted him too. 

 

“I’m gonna grab some air.” Bucky spun quickly and headed for the exit, catching a glimpse of the grandmotherly sample lady on his way out. She gave him a wink and a quick thumbs up as he passed. Oh my god. 

 

Steve followed him out a few minutes later, slipping into the car with a frustratingly normal expression. But when he handed Bucky the box he had been carrying, a dozen dark chocolate chilli truffles, Bucky knew things had just changed dramatically for them both.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the lovely comments on the last chapter! I will continue with random updates because that seems to make me and everyone else happy :) Also, the next chapter is going to involve me stepping out of my comfort zone a bit (SMUT!) so please bear with me there. I tend to be a *pans to windows* smut writer as I am still new at this (the end of April will be 4 months, I am still very much in my fic-writing infancy!), so I'm gonna try to step it up for the next update! We'll see! ;)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> !!!SMUT!!!
> 
> (This chapter takes place immediately after the last one)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the rating change! ;)
> 
> *Crosses fingers and prays to every god ever that this isn't terrible*

 

 

They got three steps through the door of the house before Steve was on Bucky like the happy little pokey sticks on a beloved desk cactus. 

 

Steve was like fucking fire running through his veins, and Bucky couldn’t get enough of the heat. It was delicious and it licked around him as Steve licked into his mouth, delving deeper and closer as they fumbled their shoes off and made their way to the staircase. Sarah was apparently (and very thankfully) in another part of the mansion as they bumped their way up the stairs, both laughing slightly at their lack of finesse when going up the steps. 

 

They crashed through the bedroom door together and Steve quickly slammed it shut behind him before turning to face Bucky. With two long strides across the bedroom Steve was suddenly standing in front of him and dropping to his knees on the plush carpet. 

 

Steve looked up at Bucky from his kneeling position, eyes wide and face imploring. “Buck. Can I?” 

 

Bucky had to squeeze his eyes shut for a moment. The image of Steve on the floor along with the anticipation of what was about to happen had him ready to come in his pants like a teenager. 

 

“Yes. Please.” Bucky swallowed. 

 

Steve inched forward and lifted steady hands to undo Bucky’s jeans, sliding them down around his calves to reveal Bucky’s hardened length straining against his boxer briefs. Steve gently nosed along Bucky’s contained erection, his warm breath ghosting over the fabric, making Bucky’s heart kick up yet another notch. A small spot of precum was forming and Steve nuzzled his cheek against it like a fucking cat. 

 

Bucky was officially dead. He must be in heaven. Because there was no way this was real. 

 

Steve felt an awful lot like solid flesh and blood though, and Bucky reached out to steady himself, one hand remaining locked around firm shoulder muscles, the other drifting up to card through soft golden hair.

 

Steve hooked his thumbs through the tops of Bucky’s shorts and looked up again, questioning. 

 

Bucky let out a breath and cupped one hand around Steve’s sharp jawline, forcing blue eyes to meet his own. 

 

“Steve.” Bucky’s voice was rough and shaky, a mixture of arousal and something else, but he had to say this. “I’ve been lying.”

 

Steve’s hand came up to glide over Bucky’s dick, squeezing slightly as he stroked him through his clothes. Bucky shuddered. 

 

“We’ve both been lying. But what matters is that we both want this, no faking or lies involved. Do you want this, Buck? Can you honestly say you haven’t felt it too?” 

 

Bucky swallowed and shook his head. “I’ve always wanted you Stevie. I swear. Just you.” 

 

Steve smiled then, soft but heated, and placed a gentle kiss on the head of Bucky’s cock through the fabric. “I want you too. So can I please take these off you now?” Steve lightly pulled at the waistband of his underwear. Bucky was gonna pass out. He used the rest of the blood remaining in his upper body to nod his consent. 

 

Steve finally slipped the clothing down and Bucky’s cock bobbed free, curving up towards his belly slightly. Steve’s eyes blew black at the sight and Bucky could only hang on and try to keep from falling over as Steve’s perfect pink lips wrapped around him and he began bobbing his head slowly. Steve was a little unpracticed but enthusiastic, and it was  _ Steve, _ Steve was on his knees trying to please Bucky, his lips stretched wide and shining with spit and Bucky’s precum. Steve was a little bit of a mess, and it was such a fucking turn on, it was unbelieveable. 

 

“Touch yourself.” Bucky didn’t know where the words had come from, but he needed his request to be followed so desperately now, needed to see Steve stroke himself while Bucky kept his mouth busy, kept him full. 

 

Steve’s eyes went wide and impossibly darker, and he used one hand to quickly reach down and remove himself from his jeans, letting his own thick cock spring free. Bucky bit down on his lip and tried to control himself. He had to wait for Steve, anything else was unacceptable.  

 

Steve began stroking himself with one hand, the other staying locked on Bucky to keep him close. Bucky let his hips thrust forward slightly now, slowly fucking himself into Steve’s mouth so the other man could concentrate more on himself. 

 

“You’re doing so good Stevie, you’re taking me so well right now. Does it feel good?” 

 

Steve’s face blushed a beautiful shade of pink and he moaned in affirmation, the vibrations of his mouth on Bucky almost overwhelming him. 

 

Bucky’s hips sped up and soon he was fucking Steve’s mouth in earnest, Steve’s hand picking up the pace at the same time. Bucky groaned. This was too much. His body didn’t know how to keep all these feelings contained. He was like a galaxy that kept rapidly expanding, his hard edges dissolving away until there was nothing but star scraps at his borders, twinkling with instability and light. He felt like a shattering piece of the universe. 

 

He came suddenly in Steve’s mouth, but it was ok because Steve was coming too, his eyes closed, his face the most beautiful thing Bucky had ever seen, as he drank Bucky down while navigating himself through his own orgasm, his hand slowing to a stop as he came back to himself. 

 

Steve pulled off Bucky with a soft pop, just as his lips had pulled away from Bucky’s finger in the chocolate shop less than an hour ago, Bucky’s softening cock slapping gently against Steve’s cheek before he sat back. Steve was messy and bright eyed and smiling shyly, and Bucky immediately dropped to his own knees and took Steve’s face in his hands, kissing him gently.  

 

“You are amazing.” Bucky knew it was an understatement, knew he should say more, but didn’t really know any other words right now. He hoped Steve understood. 

 

Steve’s eyes were clear blue crystals as they both pulled away for a breath and rested their foreheads together.  

 

“I’m sorry if I wasn’t that good. I’ve never… with a man.” Steve’s expression suddenly became a little more unsure and his hands flitted around, as if to make up for the lack of words. “I’ve always known I’ve liked men, but never....” His voice was soft and a little unsure as he trailed off.

 

“Steve.” Bucky breath whooshed out of his chest and he practically pulled Steve into his lap, he couldn’t help it, this guy just, guhh. His heart. 

 

“Please never apologize for that. You are perfect. That was perfect. I promise.”  Bucky was basically squeezing the crap out of him now, but he needed Steve to understand his words. 

 

Steve laughed softly. “Ok, I get it, thank you.” 

 

Bucky knew Steve was trying to lighten things up, but thankfully he could tell his comments had been heard by the flush that remained high on Steve’s cheeks. Bucky smiled and finally got to his feet, pulling Steve along with him. 

 

“Good. Now can we please go get in that giant bathtub of yours? It’s been staring at me since I got here and it looks big enough for two?” Bucky let his tone rise a little at the end enticingly, looking for Steve to agree. He didn’t want to push Steve too far, too fast, even though Steve had really initiated this whole thing today. This was still very new, for Steve in general, and for them as a pair. 

 

“Only if you let me grab those chocolates first so I can feed them to you in the tub.”

 

Bucky heaved out an overblown sigh, causing Steve to smile brightly. What a hardship this would be. “I guess. If I have to.” 

 

Steve had tucked himself back into his pants and was suddenly running out of the room, returning with the chocolate before Bucky had even started the water. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? My first smut! Good? Terrible? Other? Who knows. But I hope this isn't the worst.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve keeps busy being golden and perfect and wonderful, while Bucky realizes his time in the sun is soon coming to an end. (Literally and figuratively)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys SO MUCH for the comments on the last chapter! No smut in this update, but there are feels feels feels! (And plot. That's necessary too sometimes.)

 

 

Although Steve had a lot of money and no actual job, it didn’t mean he didn’t  _ work.  _

 

Bucky was mulling this concept over as he watched Steve get down and dirty in a flowerbed with a small gaggle of star-struck children at a local community garden, a smile on his face as he explained best planting practices, or something equally smart and dull, to an enthusiastic crowd of six year olds. Bucky wanted to applaud the patience of one little girl in particular, as her tiny marigold had been ground-ready for about five minutes, yet she continued to listen intently to Steve as he waxed poetic about root systems or something. Steve did have a naturally captivating quality about him though, which made him hard to ignore or dismiss. Bucky wasn’t even in on the conversation, yet it was like he couldn’t look away. Steve was the sun, and Bucky was just one of the many planets lucky enough to be allowed in his orbit, happy to feel those rays of warmth whenever he was welcomed close enough. It wasn’t really a choice at this point, the magnetism, the pull he felt. It just was.  

 

Steve looked up from where the girl had finally plopped her plant in the ground and holy fuck that  _ smile,  _ the fucking force of it barreled into Bucky, where he was leaning against a tree, trying to remain cool as a cucumber in this insane devil heat, as Steve’s ‘good friend’ at this little community outing. Bucky couldn’t help his own answering smile as Steve’s eyes met his, but he restrained himself from making any further moves. 

 

Steve not being ‘out’ in public was certainly problematic in Bucky’s eyes, but it obviously wasn’t Bucky’s decision, and after a heartfelt discussion the day before, he now knew it wasn’t actually Steve’s choice either. Steve’s sexuality was a tricky topic when it came to his supposed ‘political ambitions,’ and even though Bucky knew a life in politics wasn’t Steve’s dream, he knew Steve was still struggling to let go of something he had wanted if only for his father’s sake. A father who had once told his impressionable young son that these secrets were sometimes better left in the closet if you wanted to succeed in life. 

 

Bucky had to unclench his fists from his sides just at the thought of it. He had never met Joseph Rogers before he passed, and knew he had done charitable things in his time, but this soured Bucky’s impression of the man greatly. Anyone telling Steve to hide a part of himself, when Steve was so obviously meant to live a full, authentic, well-loved life, was enough to make Bucky a little ornery. Steve deserved everything. How had his own father not seen that? 

 

Steve had opened up about these topics in the hush of the previous evening, wrapped up in the bed and each other after their shared bath. The earlier confession of feelings had seemed to open a floodgate in Steve, years of pent-up emotions bubbling to the surface now that he had someone to talk to, someone to  _ trust.  _ Bucky tried not to think too hard on that point at the moment. One problem at a time. Today’s problem being that he couldn’t hold his fake but maybe not so fake boyfriend’s hand in public without some sort of armageddon occurring. Steve was an intensely private person, and the last thing he needed was his sexual preference being splashed around on the front of every shitty gossip rag in every grocery store checkout line across America like it was everybody’s business. (Suppress,  _ suppress  _ that horrendous feeling in your gut, Barnes.)

 

Another floodgate had opened up yesterday as well, and this one had Bucky basically throwing himself back against the tree in a mildly failing attempt to keep his distance from Steve in public, keep away from the beckoning siren song that was the touch of one Steve Rogers. Since the chocolate-shop incident the day before, (a.k.a the best day of Bucky’s life) he and Steve had not been able to keep their hands off each other. Literally. And not always sexually, although yesterday’s BJ and bath time were 10/10, would do again. It was  _ everything.  _ Steve brushing his thumb over Bucky’s knuckles as they sat at breakfast this morning, Bucky leaning into Steve as they brushed their teeth at the sink together (what even was his life right now? So domestic!) It was every little action, every little movement, that kept them close, and everyone was noticing. Bucky hadn’t even been trying to antagonize Sharon anymore, he had bigger things to worry about currently, but this had seemed to upset her most of all this morning, this casual intimacy. Sarah, ever the observer, had been oddly expressionless this morning as well. Tony was just Tony, thank god. 

 

Snapping Back to the present, Bucky watched Steve casually brush dirt from his knees like those weren’t $400 designer jeans he was wearing, and practically float in Bucky’s direction, that magnetic pull apparently affecting them both. And Bucky’s (undeniably stupid, and hot, it was so hot out?!) body reacted to the ebb and flow of Steve’s movements, the moon influencing the ocean tides, as it pushed off the tree and met Steve in the middle, seemingly of it’s own volition. Damn it all to hell, Bucky was so gone on this guy. He couldn’t even control his own limbs around him. 

 

Since they weren’t really able to touch each other right now, Bucky also needed to make sure they didn’t start eye-fucking again with all these children around (he was a super responsible adult person, ok?) so he decided to immediately steer the conversation to garden stuff. Safe, non-sexy topics. 

 

“I hope you told them that fertilizer is basically just poop.” Bucky jutted his chin towards the group of young Steve worshippers. “They should know. They’re kids, but they have a right to this information.” …Ok, not a great start there, but this was definitely not sexy. He could work with this. It was just so hot out though, it was hard to think. 

 

“Uh. No. I didn’t… Just. No. Are you feeling ok?” Steve was looking concerned now. 

 

“Peachy! Just… gardens. So cool. You know. Dirt. Worms. Various… soils.” Bucky’s garden experience was, admittedly, rather limited. 

 

Steve put a hand on his forehead, and aw fuck Steve, you ruined it, with the touching. Bucky had been doing so well, restraining himself in both touch and topic! “Have you been in the sun again?”

 

“Yes, but that’s not the point.” 

 

“I think you should sit down.” Steve was taking his elbow and guiding him to a lawn chair and a cooler of bottled water, easing Bucky down before grabbing one and cracking the seal on it. He passed it to Bucky and Bucky drank deeply, just to have something to do with his mouth that wasn’t talking. Not eye-fucking was so difficult. Ugh. 

 

“I still have to stick around for the silent auction part, we donated a few of the items and the proceeds are going towards after-school gardening programs, so I have to talk to the organizers and make sure they hit their financial goals today. But maybe you should go home? If you’re not feeling well?” 

 

“Why do you like gardening so much?” Come to think of it, Bucky’s head was a little spinny feeling today. It was really fucking hot out. 

 

“It’s one of Ma’s favourite pastimes, but she was busy today so I filled in. Plus it’s for the kids. We talked about this at breakfast. I think you need to go home Buck.” 

 

Bucky nodded his burning head in agreement. It was hottttt. “Ok.”

 

* * *

 

Bucky stepped into the central air of the house and immediately felt better. He slipped his shoes off and let his feet rest on the cool tile of the floor for a second. 

 

Steve had fretted and flittered around as he called a car to have Bucky chauffeured back to the house, apologizing profusely for not taking him himself. Bucky understood. Meeting one of the famous Rogers family members was one of the things that actually got people out to these events, and it would be shitty of Steve to leave halfway through when he had promised his time like that. Bucky also suspected Steve would be bidding way too much on some random auction item to make sure the goal for the day was met, so there were a few obligations there. Bucky just didn’t do great in heat, that was all. 

 

Bucky made his way over to the staircase, intent on taking a nice cool shower upstairs, when he heard Sharon’s voice coming from another room. He knew Tony and Sarah were out, so she must have been on the phone. Curiosity got the better of him, and he crept down the hallway to be closer to the conversation. 

 

“Friday night. There needs to be cameras and press. The Ballroom on Hudson.” A pause. “Definitely. I heard it from Tony Rogers himself. I guarantee it.” Sharon’s voice faded as she wandered further away in her conversation, but Bucky didn’t follow. He had heard enough. Sharon was the anonymous source feeding the press tips on her upcoming engagement. What the fuck?

 

* * *

Bucky was lying in bed, post-shower, contemplating what he had heard earlier, when Steve entered quietly, the edge of the mattress dipping down under his weight as he sat next to him.

 

“Hey, you feeling any better?” Steve asked softly, one large hand coming up to comb through Bucky’s messy hair. He hadn’t bothered to brush it after the shower. 

 

Bucky sat up and wrapped his arms around Steve’s body, leaning into his solid frame. “Better now, yes.” 

 

Steve smiled. “I’m sorry you missed the rest of the event, but I got you something.” Steve pulled a relatively small box out from behind his back, which Bucky hadn’t even noticed until now. It was all scribbled on, like a kid had decorated it.

 

Bucky lifted the top of the box off and couldn’t help the smile that flooded his face as he took in it’s contents. “Steve. A mini cactus?” He pulled it out of the box carefully and inspected it. This one had a tiny pink flower at the top, and the little ceramic pot it was in was (poorly) painted bright pink to match. This was definitely the handiwork of a child for a garden-themed auction. And it was so, so perfect. His current desk cactus was a boy. And now he had a girlfriend. Someone to love. Because love was really, really important. Bucky suddenly wanted to cry, but whether it would be tears from happiness or something else was still up for debate. 

 

Steve, unaware of the emotional explosion he had just detonated, shrugged slightly and smiled shyly. “I don’t know why, it just reminded me of you. Do you know how to take care of a cactus? Because I don’t. And this one cost me $700, so I’d rather we not kill it.”

 

Bucky did cry then, just a little, holding tight to Steve and his new cactus as he laughed and cried, a mix of upset and joy running down his face, because there was no denying it anymore, he had fucked up so, so badly. 

 

He had fallen in love with Steve Rogers. 

 

Steve just held him through it and kissed his lips and petted his hair and suggested that maybe tomorrow Bucky should stay out of the sun. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this very late last night, so if there are any glaring errors in spelling or grammar please let me know and I'll fix! ;)
> 
> (Also, not really a spoiler hopefully, but I don't like sad endings, so please don't fret as things start to get rough! There are sunny skies ahead! We just have to get through some rain first! <3)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky has a *new* new plan, which means enjoying every moment possible with Steve until Bucky comes clean (and Steve just comes. Like, sexually. At least 5 times. That too.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note this has somehow transformed from what was a Teen fic into an Explicit fic, and I have no idea how, yet here we are. I was going to split this into 2 chapters, but think it works better as one. So enjoy this mega long sex chapter!

 

 

New plan, new plan, new plan. That was the plan. 

 

Bucky was pacing around the bedroom the next morning as Steve took a shower, wondering how the fuck he was going to get through the end of the week. 

 

This was bad. Really bad. Bucky wasn’t sure he would be able to fix this. But there were a few things he could do. Even if Steve never wanted to see him again after all this (heart, don’t even right now) he could still do a few good things in the time they had left together. 

 

Which is why Bucky was suddenly moving towards Steve’s art room, cellphone in hand. 

 

“Natasha? Yes, I’m alive. Yes, I fucked it up. I know. I can’t talk long, so I need you to do something for me. First, make sure Clint doesn’t kill my cactus. Second, I was wondering if you have any contacts in the art community? I need a favour.”

 

* * *

 

 

Bucky was back in the bedroom by the time Steve exited the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. (This wasn’t helpful to Steve at all, but part of the plan now also included Bucky soaking up every inch of Steve while he had the chance. Because he may be a dumpster-fire of a person, but he wasn’t dead, ok?)

 

Steve had been heading for the closet but detoured towards Bucky when he saw him instead, leaning in with his good smells and still slightly damp skin for a kiss. 

 

Bucky’s knees threatened to give away as his lips met Steve’s in a slow, unhurried kiss, Steve exploring Bucky’s mouth like he had all the time in the world. Bucky whimpered slightly as Steve gently pulled away a few minutes later, all his senses screaming at him to pull that loosely tied towel away and get Steve onto the bed as soon as possible. He resisted though. For now. 

 

“So I actually wanted to talk to you some about something quickly.” Steve smiled and ran a hand lovingl-no  _ likingly, are you stupid,  _ over Bucky’s jaw as he pulled away and finally made his way into the walk-in. “There’s this party going on Friday night. It’s kind of a big deal as it’s for one of my family’s bigger charities. And I was hoping we could go together. Not like, together, together, since it’s not just family, but like, you and me could both be there. Maybe?”

 

Bucky couldn’t help but roll his eyes. How could this guy be so smooth one minute and turn into such a dope the next? “Yes Steve, I would be honoured to attend a fancy rich person charity party that you will also coincidentally be attending.” 

 

Steve stuck one toned arm out the closet door and gave Bucky the finger. What a punk. 

 

“You know what I mean.” Steve finally emerged dressed and looking way too fucking hot for everyday life. It was almost outrageous that he was allowed to just walk around on the surface of the planet like that. “But still, thank you. You know what that means though, right?” Steve’s ridiculous smile was one of those ones he got when he did something exceptionally nice that made him happy, like agreeing to chocolate shops over ziplines, or paying 100x the actual value of a cactus so kids could plant carrots or something after school. “You need a suit.”

 

* * *

Bucky kicked Steve out of the fitting room after ten minutes, for two very good reasons. One being that if Steve kept looking at him like that, Bucky was going to have a boner while the very nice suit shop guy measured his inseam, and secondly, because at the end of the day, Bucky wanted his suit to be a surprise. 

 

They left the store an hour later and Bucky was tight-lipped about what he had selected, but his stomach was all fluttery with anticipation. He wanted to see Steve see him in his suit the night of the gala. It was pathetic, really, but he didn’t care. They only had a few days left and he was going to enjoy every second of the remaining time. He wanted to see Steve’s eyes blow black with lust again as many times as possible before everything fell apart. 

 

He had decided that he was going to come clean on Sunday. Steve still didn’t know that Tony was going to propose, and he wanted to be there for him through that. Being there for Steve, supporting him through this whole Sharon and Tony clusterfuck, was what had gotten him into this whole fake but not so fake relationship in the first place, and he needed to see it through. Get Steve through the night of the engagement and the aftermath of the next day, then sit him down and tell the truth. About everything. 

 

Bucky wouldn’t be publishing an article. The story was pretty much out there anyway. There was no reason to compete with Brock anymore. Everyone and their mother was going to know soon enough, if Sharon had ended up calling all the major press outlets, as Bucky suspected she had. Sharon wasn’t stupid, regardless of whatever else she was. And Bucky didn’t really feel like he could go back to work after this anyways. His feelings towards the private lives of people in the spotlight had changed dramatically in the past week, and he felt sick to his stomach when he thought about returning to that kind of life. Nat was right, it wasn’t for him. 

 

Bucky was trying not to think too much beyond these basic plans. He didn’t think about how Steve would react. He didn’t think of how his heart hammered and pleaded and begged forgiveness as he imagined telling Steve the truth, that he had shown up for the wrong reasons but stayed for the right ones. That there were lies upon lies here, but he hadn’t meant to use Steve, to take advantage of him like this. That there was no story, because Bucky was done with all that. Because he loved him. 

 

Steve deserved the truth. He also deserved someone better than Bucky, someone who could love him properly, but Bucky couldn’t think about that right now. That one hurt a little too much.  

 

He pushed it all down and smiled at Steve, bumping their shoulders together as they walked down the street to go have lunch while they waited for Bucky’s suit alterations. Just two friends on the sidewalk, like it was nothing at all.

 

* * *

Thursday came way faster than Bucky had anticipated.

 

Thursday was special, because it was the last day before everything was set to go to shit, so Bucky was going enact the rest of his new plan to make their remaining time count. (By counting orgasms. He would be counting Steve’s orgasms. Even Natasha wouldn't be able to argue with what a good plan this was.)

 

He woke Steve up slowly with a blowjob. About fucking time, too. He hadn’t seen him come since the chocolate shop day, which felt like a lifetime ago, but was actually only days ago. Bucky should have been doing this every single day, but he was an idiot of course, so he hadn’t been. But today Steve got a blowjob, because Steve deserved everything good ever, including pleasurable wake-up methods. 

 

Steve was lying on the bed, his chest flushed and heaving as he recovered from his orgasm (his first of many today, if Bucky’s plan went… according to plan) and Bucky crawled back up the bed to lie beside him for a moment. Steve instantly pulled him into his arms and started peppering his face with cute little kisses and nuzzles as he caught his breath. “I...” Steve took another breath. “What was that for?” He said instead. 

 

“Because you deserve it. Good?” 

 

“So good.” Steve kissed him again and stuck his face into Bucky’s neck, just above his shoulder.  “What do you wanna do today?” He mumbled a few minutes later into Bucky’s skin. 

 

You. “I have a few ideas.”

 

* * *

 

 

By four in the afternoon, Bucky was working on pulling orgasm number four out of Steve (the symmetry there was beautiful, and it was not lost on Bucky.) 

 

Even more beautiful though? Steve. Steve breathless and panting on the bed, against the bathroom counter, in the shower where they were now. Steve was a full body blusher, and that included the perfect flush his skin took on when he was aroused. Bucky couldn’t see his face at the moment, but he knew it would be there. 

 

He currently had Steve pinned against the tiled wall with his body, his own erection pressed firmly against his perfect ass. He hadn’t been inside Steve, not yet. But soon. For now, he was reaching around and jerking Steve off with a soapy hand, pumping his own hips against him with every stroke. This day was about Steve, about giving him every sexual opportunity he could, a taste of everything he had missed out on, but Bucky would die,  _ die,  _ if he had to do all this without taking the pressure off of himself at least once or twice. 

 

Steve braced one hand against the wall, tilting his head back to rest against Bucky’s shoulder. “Buck.” Steve’s voice was desperate and needy, and Bucky turned his head to mouth along Steve’s jaw and neck as he panted towards the ceiling, Steve’s eyes fluttering like he couldn’t decide if he had the strength to keep them open or not. “Buck, I can’t.”

 

Bucky twisted his wrist and kept up the pace, keeping his body firmly against Steve’s. Good thing too, because Steve’s knees buckled slightly at Bucky’s motions. 

 

“You can Steve, I know you can. One more, then I’ll let you rest. Come on Stevie, come for me.”

 

Steve’s eyes finally admitted defeat and slammed shut as he moaned, low and long as he started painting ribbons on the tiles and over Bucky’s hand. 

 

_ Yes,  _ Bucky sighed, but he wasn’t sure of the words had even reached his mouth, if they had ever made it to Steve’s ears, before he was coming too, releasing against Steve’s smooth skin before the water washed everything away moments later. 

 

Steve went instantly boneless and Bucky had the good sense to keep him pinned to the wall as he came down from his own high. He grabbed the soap and quickly cleaned himself and Steve off before turning off the water and reaching out to grab an oversized towel to wrap Steve in. Steve was practically asleep on his feet as he was led to the bed, curling onto his side around Bucky as Bucky pulled the sheets over them. Steve had one large hand wrapped around Bucky’s forearm, which made moving around a little difficult, but Bucky didn’t mind. He didn’t want to let Steve go either. 

 

“Buck.” Steve’s voice was a whisper as his hand tightened on his arm. 

 

“Shhh, I’m right here Stevie. Just sleep for a bit. I’ve got you.” Bucky petted a hand through damp golden hair and Steve relaxed completely, slipping into heavy sleep as the afternoon sun danced across his form on the bed. 

Bucky leaned down and pressed a kiss to his head. He could give him this.

 

* * *

 

 

Bucky woke Steve up again in the early evening, this time with a plate of food and a huge bottle of water. 

 

Steve had fluffy bed head as he sat up, the blankets pooling around his lean waist as he moved to accept the plate. Steve quickly consumed the food before taking a long draw from the bottle of water and fixing Bucky with a spacy, giddy sort of look. It made Bucky’s overzealous heart want to explode. 

 

“Good? You feeling ok?” Bucky asked when he was done. He had eaten earlier while Steve had slept. 

 

Steve nodded dreamily. “Yes.” 

 

Bucky smiled gently. Steve had this impossible way of making himself seem so much smaller and more vulnerable than someone his size had any right to be. It was overwhelmingly sweet. 

 

“I’m glad. Roll over onto your stomach, ok? Get comfy.”

 

Steve did as he was told, rolling onto his belly and propping his head up on a few pillows, unconcerned and easy in his nakedness. 

 

Bucky reached over to the bedside table and opened the drawer, pulling out a small bottle of expensive looking massage oil, as well as some wet wipes, a bottle of lube, and some condoms. He wasn’t being presumptuous, Bucky just hated digging in drawers when he was otherwise occupied. He put all the items on the bed within easy grasp, but only reached for the oil for now. 

 

Steve groaned as Bucky’s slick hands met his skin, arching up into the touch with every pass of Bucky’s fingers. 

 

“Just relax Steve,” Bucky murmured. There had been very little talking between them over the past few hours, but it wasn’t an oppressive silence. It was comfortable and only slightly weighted, like being wrapped up in an old quilt during the winter. It settled around them contently. 

 

Bucky dug his fingers into Steve’s impressive back, concentrating on the bunches of muscles as he worked his way down. 45 minutes later and Steve was like putty as Bucky reached his ass. Bucky gently kneaded the firm cheeks, smiling a little as Steve tried to subtly grind his hips into the mattress. 

 

“Still with me Steve?” He asked quietly. Steve responded with a wordless moan that went straight to Bucky’s dick, and Bucky knew it was time to get started with the final leg of their journey together. He moved the oil aside and reached for a wet wipe, cleaning the massage oil off his hands before picking up the lube and applying a generous amount to his fingers. 

 

He leaned his body up and over Steve, speaking soft and low into his ear. “I need you to tell me if I do anything you don’t like. Please tell me to stop if it’s too much Steve. I won’t hurt you. I can’t. Do you understand?”

 

Steve nodded into the pillow. 

 

“I need to hear you tell me Steve.” Bucky was dying, aching to touch this man, but couldn’t, wouldn’t, until they were crystal clear on these terms. Steve’s first experience in this way had to be nothing short of perfect. There were no other options. 

 

“Yes, Bucky, please. Please. I understand.” It was a breath of words, a whisper over silk, but Bucky heard him, felt his voice through the rumbling vibrations in the mattress. 

 

Bucky lowered his hand into the cleft of Steve’s ass and lost a bit of time there, circling and stroking at Steve’s opening until he could hear Steve panting into the pillow, could feel him shifting his hips into a more comfortable position as his erection swelled beneath him. 

 

Bucky kept his fingers in place but moved to start kissing down Steve’s spine as he lined his index finger up and slowly began pushing in. Steve let out a full body shudder and a low moan when he was breached, but his hips kept moving in small circles against the mattress, so Bucky kept up his motions. He moved slowly in and out, giving Steve time to adapt to the feeling. They had time. This was all for Steve, and he wouldn’t rush. 

 

A second finger joined the first when Steve started letting out desperate little whimpers, and Bucky kept his other hand on Steve’s hip, grounding in it’s reassurance. Steve was so, so tight, Bucky’s head spun to think he would be slipping into that delicious space soon. It almost didn’t seem possible. 

 

By the time two had become three, Steve was breathing harshly and gripping the pillows with white knuckles. 

 

“Please.” The word came choked out from between Steve’s pink bitten lips and Bucky couldn’t take it anymore, he pulled his fingers out and guided Steve to roll over before quickly pulling a condom on and slicking himself up. The feeling of his own hand on himself was intense after watching Steve moan beneath him, and he had to take a breath before looking down at Steve. 

 

The breath caught in his throat. 

 

Steve looked thoroughly fucked-out already, blue eyes glassy and hooded as he stared into Bucky’s grey ones. His mouth was open slightly and Bucky had no choice, he leaned down and captured a kiss, eyes closing at the contact as he met Steve’s tongue with his own. 

 

Foreheads were rested together as Bucky lined up at Steve’s entrance and slowly, so, so slowly, pushed his way inside. 

 

“Steve.” Bucky breathed, just a lone word. He didn’t know what else he had meant to say, but that was all he could get out. Steve seemed to be struggling in the same way, his mouth opening and closing slightly, like taking in air was all he was capable of right now. 

Steve’s body shook slightly as Bucky finally sheathed himself fully inside the man, and he settled there for an unbearable moment, giving Steve another second to adjust. Steve finally angled his hips up slightly, and Bucky took this for the permission it was and began to move. 

 

“Bucky.” Steve’s voice was desperate and rough and pleading, and he soon met Bucky’s thrusts with motions of his own, synching their movements perfectly. 

 

Bucky’s blood was on fire, his skin crackling with electric currents, heart roaring like a thunderstorm as he moved in and out, matching Steve’s cries with his own. He could hardly stand to look at Steve’s face, the light he emitted threatening to burn his retinas, but never in a million years would he dream of looking away. Steve’s expression was everything Bucky had wanted, had looked for, in life. Everything he had never known he needed. 

 

Steve’s breathing hitched and Bucky knew he was close. He reached down and wrapped one hand around Steve’s hard, leaking cock and stroked, letting out a cry of pleasure as Steve tightened impossibly further around him, painting his stomach and Bucky’s hand white with cum while Bucky simultaneously released into the condom. 

 

Bucky all but collapsed onto Steve, pulling out carefully before removing the condom and tying it off. He threw it in the waste bin beside the bed before quickly rolling back over to Steve, taking his face in gentle hands and kissing his lips, his eyelashes, his nose, everything within reach. 

 

When Steve finally opened his eyes, it was like seeing the sunrise crest over the ocean. A new beginning. A miracle, for his eyes only. They gazed at each other for a few minutes before Bucky reached for the wipes, cleaning himself and Steve off and then pulling the sheet and duvet up and over them to create a small pocket of warmth. 

 

They held each other tightly as they slept that night, actions speaking louder than any possible words.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically where things stop being totally 100% fun and start getting tricky for a little bit (while still hopefully remaining a little fun, it is still Bucky we're dealing with here), so I hope this loving, heated sexy-time chapter gave you something good to hold on to! I will do my best to not make it too painful, but the truth has to come out eventually. I don't know how many chapters are left, but we are definitely reaching our climax soon! Expect the next few chapters to be a little more plot-heavy. More to come this week! :)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night of the gala arrives at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Hides under a rock*
> 
> Please don't hate me.

 

 

Bucky didn’t really have any actual Cinderella moments in his life, but he suspected this may count as one, if you twisted his arm.

 

He was currently descending a staircase with a handsome prince waiting for him at the bottom, so they could attend what was essentially a ball, and he needed like, mice, or pigeons or something, to come support him because he was going to fall over. Cause of death: Steve Rogers in a perfectly fitted suit. He could see Steve in his fucking flawless dress clothes, currently turned towards Tony in the midst of a conversation, and Jesus Christ, this man should be illegal in all states. He was so handsome. It was not up for debate. The earth was round. Water was wet. Steve Rogers was handsome. Et cetera, et cetera.

 

Bucky’s foot thunked against one of the steps (a graceful Disney princess he was not, unfortunately) and Steve was suddenly looking up, and _ohmygodyes,_ there it was, that look he had been waiting for. That looked that said Steve wanted to take him back upstairs, and rip his own flawless suit off, and get pounded into the mattress.

 

Bucky had to admit he looked pretty good tonight. He was in an all black suit, different materials and fabrics keeping the look from being flat and dull, the jacket and pants cut perfectly to hug his frame in all the right spots. Bucky was pretty sure it made his eyes pop. Also his cheekbones. And his legs looked crazy long too, really. So Bucky looked pretty good, he guessed, but the way Steve was looking at him, it was like he had discovered the cure for the common cold or something.

 

“Buck.” Steve (perfect gentleman/sex on legs) held out a hand and guided him down the last few steps, unnecessary, but utterly charming all the same. His suit was a dark, dark blue, and it made the light blue of his eyes seem even brighter. It was a powerful effect, to say the least. Bucky was going to revert back to his swooning days if he wasn’t careful.

 

“Steve.” He gave a small nod of the head and flashed a shy smile as Steve pulled him close into his side, one arm coming up to wrap snugly around Bucky’s waist.

 

Tony let out a low whistle. “Looking good, Buckaroo.”

 

Bucky reluctantly pulled his gaze away from Steve and eyed Tony. “Not so bad yourself, Tony Bologna. For an elder.”

 

“Hey! I’ll have you know I’m not that much older than Steve!” Tony cried indignantly, looking down at his own silver suit to brush an invisible piece of lint away. “I’m ahead of my time. You just don’t get it.”

 

“Tony’s always been the misunderstood one, it’s nothing new.” Steve whispered loudly, causing Tony to roll his eyes fondly behind his weird tinted sunglasses. Bucky was happy to know that despite the whole Sharon situation, the brothers seemed to still be on good terms with one another. He didn’t need Steve losing that relationship too this week.

 

Sharon and Sarah entered together then, both looking effortlessly elegant, and then they were all out the door, climbing into the back of a limo under just emerging stars, ready to begin the night that would end it all.

 

* * *

 

The gala was fucking insane. Bucky kept making Disney princess references, but that was because there was nothing else in his mind’s encyclopedia to compare things to. The ballroom was absolutely glowing, chandeliers and champagne in excess. He was basically Belle now, all the random people around him registering as dancing teapots and stuff. Except Steve was no beast. Oh no. Quite the opposite.

 

Steve was off fetching drinks as Bucky stood at the edge of the dance floor, taking in the sights. Insanely beautiful couples were spinning around together, and Bucky felt a small tug in his heart as he saw Tony lead Sharon to the floor and pull her into his arms. He wished he could have that with Steve tonight. But soon Steve was flowing through the crowd, back to his side, his silly happy-puppy smile plastered to his face, and Bucky couldn’t help but smile in return. He kept one hand in his pocket, lest he reach out and touch Steve in public, but his other hand gratefully accepted the champagne and he took a healthy sip. Gah, it was so good. Everything here was so good. Normal peasant-Bucky life was going to be hard to go back to.

 

They watched the floor together for a while, Steve leaning in every so often to point out people of note. It stirred his stomach up, Steve talking to him like these were things he needed to know, for future occasions, for more special events. Like he’d be around for them. Bucky just smiled and nodded. He needed to stay in the moment. Take every second for what it was. He was fine.

 

The evening glided by, Bucky and Steve filling up with fancy little hors d'oeuvres before Steve led Sarah to the floor, moving smoothly to the music with his mother in his arms. Bucky sat at an empty table, watching them with soft eyes. Sarah stood tall and Steve leaned down a little as she whispered in his ear, and Steve flushed pink but nodded with surety at whatever she had asked. Bucky would give his left arm to know what she had said, then. But he didn’t get the opportunity to ask. Because as the music faded out, Tony approached the orchestra and accepted a microphone from one of the musicians. Ah fuck. This was it.

 

Steve was moving back to Bucky’s side when Tony began to speak, but he stopped in place when Tony commenced with what was obviously a rehearsed speech.

 

“Sharon,” he started, and there she was, slithering to his side in her perfect dress and perfect shoes, a perfect fucking smile on that perfectly fake, plastic face. “You and I have known each other for years. And in the time I’ve known you, I’ve known you to be a smart, strong, beautiful woman. I’ve come to realize there are many ways to be happy in this life, but finally smartened up enough to realize that all I need is you. Sharon Carter,” Steve was ghost white now, and moving silently towards the exit as Tony got down on one knee, pulling a ring box from his suit pocket. Bucky could hear the flashbulbs popping as the members of press hidden amongst the crowd swarmed to the front of the group, the sound of cameras clicking drowning out the ‘will you marry me?’ part of Tony’s speech. Bucky’s own ears sounded like the ocean suddenly, as he watched Steve make a hasty retreat, his own legs kicking into gear a moment later to follow. _Whooosh_. In and out. That’s all there was.

 

He found Steve in the lobby. The orchestra had started back up a moment ago after a round of applause and cheers indicated Sharon’s acceptance, the music drifting out softly through the heavy ballroom doors.

 

Steve turned as Bucky approached, his face a mask to whatever he was feeling underneath.

 

“Steve.” Bucky spoke quietly but approached quickly, his heart thudding loudly in his chest. Bucky hadn’t seen that terrifyingly flat face in so many days. Had it only been days ago that Sharon had walked in? Only days ago that his entire life was turned upside down by one ridiculously perfect man in a tiny little cabin in the woods? It didn’t seem possible. It felt like a lifetime ago.

 

Steve didn’t acknowledge that he had heard his name.

 

“Dance with me.” He said instead, and pulled Bucky into his arms, beginning to sway slowly.

 

“Steve...” Bucky tried again, but was silenced with a warm kiss.

 

“Please.” It was desperate and wet and Bucky couldn’t say no.

 

They moved together to the quiet lull of the music, holding each other tight. After a few minutes Bucky found the courage to look up.

 

“Still stings, huh?” He asked gently.

 

Steve’s face had relaxed significantly, his blue eyes surprisingly clear now. A ghost of a smile touched his lips as he met Bucky’s gaze. “Not so much anymore.”

 

Steve tilted his head down and captured Bucky’s mouth in a deep, wanting kiss, one hand moving to cradle Bucky’s jaw, the other at the small of his back, keeping him close, letting his emotions bleed into the touch.

 

Steve pulled back and brushed his lips across Bucky’s sweetly.

 

“Not with you.” Steve whispered before leaning in again.

 

And that was when Bucky heard it.

 

The snap of a shutter. A single camera’s shutter, quiet and insignificant to the unobservant, unrecognizable to a man so caught up in a kiss and a moment that he missed the flash and the pop.

 

Bucky was listening. Bucky looked up.

 

Bucky looked up over Steve’s shoulder and saw Brock Rumlow walking away, a photo of Steve Rogers kissing another man stored safely on the camera in his hand. 

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth comes out, and we get a glimpse into Steve's head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the beginning of the end lovelies! There will be 15 chapters total I believe, and chapter 14 will go up immediately after this one, as not to leave off in a horribly sad spot. As well, I had to switch to Steve's POV for a little bit, because otherwise there would be no way to tell this story properly. Bucky's Disney princess, cactus loving mind will return soon enough, I promise! <3

 

 

Steve was settled into bed and sleeping soundly when Bucky slipped out of the sheets and wrapped himself in a spare blanket, making his way out of the bedroom and to the back porch. It was still warm outside, but it was also late, the dark and quiet making him feel desperately lonely, and he needed all the little comforts he could hold onto right now.

 

He stepped out onto the the deck with only the moonlight and stars to see by, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he realized he wasn’t alone.

 

Sarah was sitting on the padded porch swing that hung from the gazebo, moving gently back and forth in the still of the night, wrapped up in a blanket of her own.

 

Bucky took a breath and forced down the tears that had been threatening, the ones that had pulled him away from the warmth of Steve and the bed. A few spilled over anyways, despite his best efforts.

 

Fuck his terrible fucking plans.

 

“Sarah, I need to tell you something.” He met her eyes and let her see him, raw and open. It had felt like such a long time since he had told the truth, to anyone. His tears flowed a little more freely when he took in her own somber expression.

 

She smiled at him, a small, sad thing. “I know, James.” She patted the empty seat beside her. “Come sit down and we’ll talk about it.”

 

* * *

 

_[Steve]_

 

When Steve woke up Saturday morning, the first thing he did was reach across the bed for Bucky. It was automatic, a motion without thought, a now-regular routine of his everyday life. It didn’t matter that it had only been a week since Bucky had come tripping into his world, tilting everything on an axis. Steve’s body had already committed to the muscle memory of him being there.

 

His hand touched cold, bare mattress, and he finally popped his eyes open, taking in the empty bed. Bucky was usually the late sleeper of the two of them, but sometimes he liked to get up for a coffee and then jump back into the warm bed, waiting for Steve to wake up.

 

Steve knew this, because sometimes he wasn’t fully asleep when Bucky would slide quietly back under the covers. Sometimes he would give into temptation and lie there with his eyes closed, his breathing steady as Bucky resettled in the bed, his warmth and weight on the mattress a comforting reassurance that Steve wasn’t alone. Sometimes Bucky would reach out and caress Steve’s hair, his palm resting gently on Steve’s head as his fingers traced mindless patterns into his scalp, and Steve would be allowed to drift and just feel ok for a while. It was nice. Steve hadn’t had anything nice in-. Well. Since Sharon. Or so he’d thought.

 

He took a breath and let it out. Sharon was a long time ago. Over a year ago. And then she had come slamming full force back into his life like some sort of cosmic joke, with his own brother no less. And now she was set to be his sister-in-law.

 

He had played the film reel in his head of their time together, five years worth of memories, over and over since they had broken up, never able to forget how she had manipulated him, deceived him, led him to believe they had something special together.

 

He hadn’t seen the flash of the paparazzi's lights, the increase in their appearances in magazines and on gossip blogs, the way Sharon had used him to increase her own stardom, until it was too late.

 

When Steve had opened up to her, one final desperate plea to let her know a life under constant scrutiny wasn’t for him, asking her to leave the lights and cameras behind and move somewhere more secluded together, invest in themselves and a private life, Steve had finally met the woman he was actually engaged to. He had finally seen the ugly face under that beautiful mask. And it had crushed him. Five years he had spent with her, and it was gone in a blink. Sharon wanted fame and money far, far more than she had ever wanted Steve.

 

He had ended it and moved back home, spending most of his time in the cabin on the property once he had finished his terribly boring degree, painting and wandering in the woods in his free time. (More like sulking and mouring his wasted time, if you asked his Ma.)

 

But then Bucky fell down a hill, and everything changed.

 

He’d been worried at first, that Bucky was just a convenient body to fill that gaping wound in his heart, that his developing feelings were some sort of late-stage rebound. But deep down, he knew. He knew when he looked at Bucky, when he saw that flashing smile and those sharp eyes, that Bucky was not just a placeholder. He was playfulness, charisma and wit, in a lean, tightly guarded package. A brassy, confident exterior with hidden pockets of shyness, a quiet intellect under outward charm. He was the fresh air filling Steve’s lungs, spring flowers pushing up through once frozen earth. Steve felt alive, renewed, like he could finally see colour after years of grey monotony.

 

What had happened with Sharon and Tony yesterday was a punch to the gut, salt poured in excess over a barely healed wound. But last night, when he got to hold Bucky in his arms and dance with him, kiss him, fall asleep beside him, it didn’t seem to matter as much. Not anymore. Because he had Bucky, a firework in the darkness. Because he was in love.

 

Steve rolled out of bed and changed quickly, taking the stairs two at a time to get to that wide smile just one second faster.

 

* * *

  

Steve found Bucky seated at the dining room table with Sarah, Tony, and, oddly enough, Phil Coulson, his mother’s lawyer.

 

Bucky looked up as he entered and Steve felt his stomach hit the floor. Something was very, very wrong. Bucky’s eyes were red-rimmed, his face pale and tight, like he hadn’t slept at all. Sarah’s gaze was stronger, but not reassuringly so. Tony was looking at the tabletop, eyes unwilling to meet Steve’s at all. Phil’s expression was slightly grim, but otherwise unremarkable, a professional cloak pulled on for the masses.  

 

“What’s going on?” Steve’s voice sounded high and peculiar to his own ears, and he saw Bucky flinch slightly. “Buck?” He was concerned for his mother and Tony, but Bucky’s expression was alarming, his face too white and drawn for anyone usually so vibrant.

 

“Sit down, Steve.” Sarah’s voice was soft with the command. It harkened back to the days of his father’s passing, a quiet, controlled strength amid the chaos and heartache. Steve had never wanted to hear that tone again, if he could help it.

 

Steve walked around the table and took an empty seat next to Bucky, reaching a hand out and expecting a firm grasp in return, a reassurance through touch. His hand brushed Bucky’s and Bucky pulled away like his skin had caught fire, quickly stuffing both his hands down onto his lap, knuckles white as he squeezed them together.

 

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” Bucky’s voice was rough and paper-thin, his grey-blue eyes suddenly blinking rapidly.

 

Steve’s body felt numb as he turned and addressed the table. “What’s going on?”

 

“We’re going to start with the most pressing matter first.” Sarah took the lead with  straightened shoulders and a raised head. “Phil is here because a reporter took a photo of you and Bucky last night in a compromising position.”

 

Ice flooded Steve’s veins. It hadn’t been his choice to stay in the closet publicly, but he had certainly wanted it to be his choice on how he came out. He had been thinking of it, practically daydreaming lately, of holding Bucky’s hand on the sidewalk, kissing him in a crowded room. Things that allowed no space for secrecy, for repression. He had wanted to choose though…

 

Steve shook his head. “I... Ok. I don’t want to hide anymore. But I don’t want it to happen like this. What can we do?” Steve turned to Phil and caught Bucky’s eye in his peripheral. His face was a complicated mixture of pride and sorrow, a watery smile twisting the corner of his lips. It was small, but it was there.

 

Steve took a breath. This was not what he had wanted to wake up to, but he could deal with this. A weight finally being lifted from his shoulders. He could be himself everywhere after this. The thought was almost freeing.

 

“If you’re comfortable with going public at this time, I’ve drawn up a statement that I’d like you to approve, as well as a cease and desist order for the magazine claiming to have the photo.” Steve finally noticed the stack of papers on the table as Phil set a small pile of documents in front of him.

 

Steve zeroed in on the paperwork, reading and signing efficiently thanks to his unwanted legal education. Phil was a good man and would look after things. Steve just wanted to get this over with, wanted everyone to go back to normal. He mostly wanted to wipe that pained expression off of Bucky’s face. The guilt of the situation, him being the man in the photo, must be what was eating him alive.

 

Steve finished signing and passed the papers back to Phil, who folded them efficiently into his briefcase before standing and shaking Steve’s hand. A quick thank you and nod of the head later, and Phil was out the door, leaving the rest of Steve’s family sitting around the table.

 

“Will everyone please stop looking like the world is ending? This was a good thing. No more hiding. It’s over.” Steve tried to lighten the mood, but his smile didn’t want to reach his eyes for some reason. The issue was dealt with, but Bucky’s expression hadn’t changed.

 

Sarah met Steve’s eyes, her own pale blue ones shiny with unshed tears. “I’m so proud of you darling, and love you so much. But it’s not quite over, I’m afraid. Tony?” Tony stood, still uncharacteristically silent, and moved out of the room with Sarah, giving Steve’s shoulder a firm squeeze as he passed.

 

And then it was just Steve and Bucky.

 

Steve couldn’t not touch him anymore, reaching his hands out and taking one of Bucky’s out of his lap. Bucky didn’t jump this time, didn’t resist. He clung, instead, like a lifeline. Like a dying man.

 

“Steve, it’s my fault...” Bucky began softly.

 

“It’s not, but doesn’t even matter Buck. I promise. It’s no one’s fault, except that nosy reporter’s. It’s not an issue anymore. It needed to happen, and I’m glad it happened. Because I don’t have to hide anymore. I can take you out like you deserve now, give you a night on the town.” Steve was trying to smile, trying to get Bucky to laugh, but his grin felt fake, and his right leg was rattling up and down for some reason.

 

Bucky eyes were wet again, but his gaze and voice were steady this time.

 

“Steve, I’ve been lying.”

 

“I know Buck, we were both lying, remember?” Steve’s smile was almost completely flat, more of a desperate grimace now.

 

Bucky shook his head, determined, the sadness becoming grim resolve. “You have to listen. I’ve been lying. To you.” Bucky’s hands were gripping tightly and Steve squeezed back, looking for an anchor as once solid edges began to crumble.

 

“I lied to you, about who I was. Who I am. I wasn’t running away into the woods the day we met. I was looking for you, your house. Because I’m a reporter. My name is James Buchanan Barnes.” Bucky’s grip tightened but Steve felt his own start to slip.

 

“I had been given a tip that you or Tony were getting engaged, and was supposed to find out who it was, and who the girl was. A challenge to decide a promotion. You invited me in, helped me, and I took advantage if you, of your situation with Sharon. I hadn’t planned on things going this far. I hadn’t planned-” Bucky’s voice broke. “I hadn’t planned on falling in love with you.”

 

“Stop.” Steve didn’t recognize his own voice, didn’t feel himself let go of pleading hands, or feel his legs begin to stand. Everything was on autopilot now.

 

“Steve, I-”

 

“Stop, please stop.” It was a whisper.

 

Bucky was crying in earnest now, silent tears slipping down aristocratic cheekbones, dampening pink lips. Lips that had teased and laughed and parted in ecstasy only days ago, brushing against Steve’s mouth, his chest, his cock. Lips that had gasped and moaned in pleasure as Bucky moved inside him.

 

Steve could barely look in his direction. The ache in his chest was too much.

 

“It was real, Steve!” Bucky was desperate, blue-grey eyes wide and begging. “You told me before that the journey is the part that matters, remember? That it’s not where you end up, it’s how you get there and why. That it’s about the honest intent, about sincerity. What we felt together? Not a lie. Every experience, everything we did together beyond that first day was so fucking sincere Steve, I promise you. And you can’t tell me you didn’t feel it too, I know it, because I know you!” Bucky’s voice was rising in volume, a surge of emotion rushing through his words, but it wasn’t directed at Steve. It was meant for himself, the situation, the horrible circumstances. A despairing cry for one bad choice on a rainy evening.

 

Steve couldn’t take it, couldn’t listen. He could hardly hear through the blood rushing through his ears. “You may think you know me,” he replied quietly, “but I have no idea who you are. You got your story though, so you’re done here. Congratulations on your promotion.”

  
Steve turned and left the room, not daring to look back. He wouldn’t let Bucky see him cry. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve is really difficult to write, so I hope this wasn't too jarring. I'm not sure I'm entirely happy with his inner monologue but I re-wrote so much of this so many times, I finally just had to give it a rest and post something. Bucky will be back in Chapter 15! <3


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve makes a choice.

 

 

_[Steve]_

 

Steve locked himself in his art room as he waited for Bucky to leave the house.

 

It didn’t take long. He’d left his shoes in the closet, his shampoo and soap in the bathroom. Bucky had walked out of the house with the clothes on his back, and nothing more.

 

Steve went back to his room and climbed back into his bed, intending to fall asleep for the next thousand years, and maybe wake up in another universe. A universe where things like this didn’t happen, where he could be a hero, or a warrior, or maybe a fucking barista for all he cared. Anything but living this lie of a life for another day.

 

He turned his head on the pillow, eyes catching on the cactus sitting silent and alone on the nightstand, it’s tiny pink pot holding down a plain brown legal-sized envelope.

 

Steve sat up, set the plant aside and removed the papers from their covering with cold hands. It was a list of art galleries, seventeen art galleries, and letters, seventeen letters, all advising Roger S. Grant that yes, they were extremely interested in his work, and they all had available space right now, and would he in fact consider becoming a main exhibitor because the quality of work demanded the collection be shown as a centerpiece, an anchor, not a side display?

 

There was no note in the envelope, just the list, the letters, and a stack of photos displaying a few of his finished canvases. Steve didn’t know if the lack of a note was for better or worse. Bucky was letting the gesture speak for itself, not asking for forgiveness, just giving Steve what he thought he deserved. A quiet accomplishment, a success earned without the Rogers’ name attached like a flashing beacon.

 

Steve put his head in his hands and sat on the bed for a very long time.

 

* * *

 

Tony was getting drunk on the patio when Steve finally walked out to join him.

 

Tony rose to pour Steve a drink, topping off his own glass before flopping back heavily into a padded deck chair.

 

“Sharon’s been lying.” Tony began the conversation without preamble. Steve listened in silence.

 

“She’s been using me. Turns out she had tipped the press off about the proposal. She chose me because it would be more dramatic, better publicity if she pit the two Rogers brothers against each other. She’d never be out of the camera lens that way. A flawless, loving woman caught in a goddamn war between two brothers. Ain’t that a bitch.” Tony tossed his head back and quickly downed the rest of his just-refreshed drink.

 

Steve nodded. This sounded familiar. “How did you find out?”

 

Tony looked at Steve, eyes getting glassy but still sharp, still seeing everything they needed to. “Your little boy-toy told me this morning before everything went straight to hell. He has a few reporter friends. I spoke to a scary-sounding lady named Natasha on the phone this morning. She confirmed it was Sharon phoning in ‘anonymously’ to all the outlets, drumming up some sort of competition between you and me, getting the press to follow our every move. This ‘Natasha’ doesn’t even do reporter work anymore apparently, but she’s got dirt on everyone and everything, it seems. I may need to consider making her a member of my entourage.” The alcohol was quickly going to Tony’s head, but he continued to talk anyways. “I’m sorry, you know. For this. For everything. You never really talked about why it ended with Sharon, and I was too stupid to ever ask. She told me it ended amicably and I believed her. I also believed her when she said she loved me. But I’m sorry, Steve, really. It was a shit thing to do.”

 

Steve nodded again. “Yeah, it really was.”

 

Tony barked out a rough laugh. “Glad we can still agree on a few things, at least.”

 

“How did Sharon take it when you told her you were done?” Steve was a little overwhelmed at the moment, but he was still curious. He’d had to replace all four tires on his car when he’d broken off their engagement.

 

“That’s the best part. I haven’t told her yet. I’m going to exact my revenge plot first. But first first, more drinks.” Tony topped them both off with refills and together they watched dusk settle, silence slipping over them both as they finished their drinks while the sun slipped down over the trees.

 

* * *

 

 

Tony had gone inside to sleep it off when the moon had come up, but Steve had stayed on the porch, watching the stars grow brighter as the sky darkened.

 

Sarah slipped into a chair beside him, a considering look on her face.

 

“Don’t even start, Ma.”

 

“Steve.” Her voice was back to normal after this morning, gently reprimanding. “Don’t be an idiot.”

 

Steve shot her an incredulous look. Really?

 

“Yes,” she answered the unspoken question. “Did you talk to Tony?”

 

Steve nodded, and Sarah hummed in acknowledgement, “And he told you that James let him know about Sharon’s plans before he left.” Not so much a question this time, but Steve nodded again anyways.

 

“You should also know James was the one who suggested we get Phil involved, to stop the photo from going to print.”

 

Steve didn’t have a response to this. He hadn’t really thought about it.

 

“I've been lying too Steve,” Sarah continued, “because I knew you were lying to me. A mother can always tell. I could also tell because James is frankly terrible at making up fake names. I mean, Barnesanfranstinski? Really? So I found out his real name and what he did for a living, and kept an eye on you two, waiting to see what he would do.”

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Steve’s throat was tight with the question.

 

“Because I saw the way you looked at each other, the way you fit together.” Sarah’s voice was soft, an apology. “And while I knew the story you were feeding me was fake, those looks weren't. They way you cared for one another, made each other laugh? That was genuine. Why do you think he spent an entire week here, Steve, with no story at the end, no article to show for his efforts, if he was really just a scumbag reporter? He had gotten almost all the information he had needed in the first day. Hell, he had gotten that, plus the bonus story of your sexuality, and he still did nothing with it. Why do you think that is?”

 

Silence.

 

“It’s because,” Sarah continued, undeterred, “he loves you. And you love him too. You told me so last night. Did that change after today?”

 

“A lot changed today, Ma.”

 

“I know.” She tipped her head in acknowledgement. “But really Steve, ask yourself, did that?”

 

She patted his hand gently before slipping away, leaving Steve alone in the dark with his thoughts.

 

By the time the next morning came, Steve had his answer.

  
A $700 cactus was set carefully in his car’s cupholder, it’s pointy spikes and bright pink pot cheering gleefully as Steve started the journey that would take them home.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it friends! One more to go. I honestly won't know what to do with my life once Chapter 15 is written. Uff. Feelings.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end <3

 

 

_[Steve]_

 

The Pulse Gossip headquarters weren't hard to find, but Bucky's desk was.

 

It was a Sunday, but news never quit, or some sort of shit saying, and the office was busy with activity.

 

Steve didn't really have a plan here, but he did have a cactus, and he was wandering around with it randomly, looking for a dark brown head and flashing eyes.

 

“Can I help you?” A gorgeous redhead was suddenly standing beside him, a blonde man on her other side. Her eyes were narrowed at him, like she was looking through his skin.

 

“I'm looking for James Barnes. Is he here?” Steve felt like a lost puppy under her scrutinizing gaze, but he kept his chin up and met her eyes.

 

She shook her head, but her lips quirked, almost imperceptibly. “He quit yesterday. That's his desk.” She jutted her chin towards a cleaned out cubicle, nothing left on the desk but the office provided computer and… another cactus?

 

“He quit?”

 

“Yeah he quit! Came in yesterday and grabbed his stuff, said he was leaving, effective immediately. Done. Finished. Outttt. Couldn’t take the heat in the kitchen, therefore exited.” The blond was talking now.

 

The redhead shot him a withering look, and he immediately closed his mouth.

 

“Are you in love with him?” She turned back to Steve.

 

“Yes.” It was very simple now.

 

“Are you going to hurt him?”

 

“Never.”

 

Steve left the office with a cactus in each hand and an address for James Buchanan Barnes in his pocket.

 

* * *

 

_[Bucky]_

 

Bucky was going to sleep for a thousand years, and then wake up and be in another universe. That was the new new new plan. Wake up and be a sexy barista or something. He could do it. He looked good in an apron.

 

He was lying in his shitty little bed in his shitty little apartment on a shitty Sunday afternoon with nowhere to go tomorrow.

 

He was jobless. Cacti-less. Loveless.

 

He deserved every minute of it.

 

He rolled over and pressed his face into the pillow. He missed Steve's pillows, his bed, the way the sheets smelled like his skin and wrapped around him considerately.

 

Or maybe he just missed Steve. Maybe.

 

Sleeping without him last night had been fucking terrible. Bucky's bed was smaller but it had felt like drifting in a choppy ocean, nothing stabilizing in sight, nothing to hold on to.

And when he woke up this morning, alone, there was nothing to do. He supposed he could pull his laptop out and look for a new job, but doing what?

 

The world was his oyster, and he had suddenly developed a shellfish allergy.

 

Bucky pounded his pillow and turned over again.

 

Sleep. Forget how Steve's face looked when you broke his heart. Forget how it felt when your own blood-pumping chest-muscle shattered in two. Forget everything, forever, until the end of time. That was the new new new new plan.

 

Bucky was fucking terrible at plans.

 

Bucky rolled over again, squirming to try to find the right position. He wasn’t trying to be dramatic, but nothing felt good, and probably never would again. Ugh. Life. Why.

 

His internal lamenting was suddenly (also rudely) interrupted by a noise.

 

It sounded like someone was kicking his door. Not kicking it like they were trying to kick it down, but still kicking it, like a shoe thumping against the wood.

 

Bucky hated his neighbours, they were dicks, and he had a lot of emotions happening right now, a lot, so he really needed someone to take them out on and a door kicking neighbour was a good target. He rolled out of bed and moved to the door, flinging it open and yelling, “Cut it out!!”

 

Steve's face turned white (first of all, Steve?!? Steve was here?!?) and his expression instantly collapsed, sad puppy eyes taking over a look that had just held a glimmer of hope.

 

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I couldn't knock. But I’ll leave, if you want me to.”

 

Bucky looked down and saw that Steve was indeed double fisting cacti at the moment, his extravagantly expensive, tiny pink-flowered auction cactus, and, in an unusual turn of events, his beloved desk cactus. His firstborn.

 

Bucky wasn't very good at taking care of things, as it turned out. He had left it at work in the hope that the next person to fill his seat would be a better guardian, set a better example for it. Bucky had felt like he was unfit to love anything. But now he had to try. Because Steve was here. His entire little family was _here_ , because of _Steve_.

 

“Steve, please don’t go.” Steve looked like a bird on a ledge, teetering precariously between falling and flying. “Please.”

 

It was like someone had cut all the tight strings in his body, an immense weight coming off Steve’s shoulders as his body visibly relaxed. He smiled then, slow and sheepish but unafraid, and he finally met Bucky’s eyes, bright blue on blue-grey as he adjusted the plants in his grip, one hand now free to reach out and grasp Bucky’s hand. A gentle squeeze. An apology. A promise. “I need you, Buck. I still don't know how to look after these things on my own. And also, I love you. That too.”

 

“Steve.” Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat. “Most cacti should be watered once a week, until water runs out of the drainage holes in the pot. And also, I love you too.”

 

* * *

 

_[Epilogue]_

 

“Steve, we have to.”

 

“No, we really don't.”

 

“But it's fun!! Remember how fun? I think you're forgetting how fun it was.”

 

“I think _you_ are remembering it as more fun than it ever actually was.”

 

“Steve, do it. It's our one year anniversary. It's romantic. Don't make me sad.”

 

“Buck.”

 

Bucky blinked grey-blue eyes rapidly. “I feel the tears. They're coming! Steve! Help!”

 

“Oh my god.”

 

* * *

 

45 minutes later, they were in the middle of a fucking lake in a big-ass swan boat.

 

Bucky's legs hurt.

 

Steve's beautiful face was tilted towards the sun, soaking up the rays.

 

“Steve.”

 

Steve didn't move.

 

“Steve. Please.”

 

Steve leaned over and kissed him deeply before reclining back into his own seat, feet nowhere near the pedals.

 

“Happy anniversary, Buck.”

 

They drifted together for thirty six minutes before Bucky reluctantly put his feet on the pedals and took them back to shore.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter was short, but I feel like it ended in the right place. :)
> 
> I cannot express how much fun I had writing these two dweebs, and then getting to talk about it with you wonderful people in the comments!
> 
> I’m honestly pretty reluctant to say goodbye to this universe so soon, and was wondering what you would think of me doing some one-shots based on this version of Steve and Bucky? I have an idea for them picking out their first apartment together (mostly smut #sorrynotsorry), that I think would be fun, so if that’s something you’d like to see, (or if you have any other ideas!) I’ll turn this into a ‘series’ type thing. Yes? No? Either way, thank you for sticking this out with me, it’s been fun!! (Real fun, not like paddle-boat fun.) <3
> 
> Edit: I ended up continuing on in this universe and have made this into a series for easier subscribing if you want notifications when something else goes up. Otherwise you can subscribe to me as a user too! :)

**Author's Note:**

> I LOVE hearing from you, please comment and kudos if you liked this! Thanks for reading!! :)


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